The Devil Wears Prada
by Wanderer of the Roads
Summary: Witch Weekly crowned him Sexiest Wizard Alive, the Daily Prophet hailed him as the Most Influencial Wizard of the Year, the Gringotts Times named him the most accomplished tycoon in history, and Hermione Granger is about to call him boss. 3 guesses who.
1. Boss

_The Devil Wears Prada  
_

Summary: _Witch Weekly_ crowned him the sexiest wizard alive, the_ Daily Prophet _hailed him as the Most Influencial Wizard of the Year, the _Gringotts Times_ named him one of most accomplished tycoons in wizarding history, and Hermione Granger is about to call him boss. 3 guesses who.

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
15th June, 2000_

_**VICTORY  
You-know-who defeated by the Boy Who Lived**_

After three years and five months of war, HARRY POTTER finally claimed victory over the Dark side in Hogwarts yesterday night. Hogwarts, which had fallen to VOLDEMORT'S forces two years ago, has been recaptured by the Light. Reliable sources report that Aurors, headed by POTTER, broke into Hogwarts at approximately 9.30pm. By 11.00pm, the GOLDEN TRIO, led by DRACO MALFOY (an officially confirmed spy for the Order), had invaded VOLDEMORT'S lair in the dungeons of the castle. Victory was declared at midnight, after POTTER struck down his enemy with the Killing Curse...

* * *

_The Gringott Times  
9th December, 2000 _

_**MALFOY WINS CASE AGAINST FROZEN ASSETS **_

DRACO L. MALFOY, the only son of imprisoned Death Eater LUCIUS MALFOY, is set to reclaim all monetary assets seized by the Ministry of Magic when the latter was arrested after the fall of VOLDEMORT. The total value of all assets is estimated to be as high as 1 billion galleons...

* * *

_Witch Weekly  
5th March, 2001_

_**DRACO MALFOY- SEXIEST WIZARD ALIVE!**_

DRACO MALFOY, founder of _MALFOY INTERNATIONAL CORPORATION_, has snatched the title of Sexiest Man Alive from HARRY POTTER, who has won the award for two consecutive years. MR. MALFOY wins the award with 159,613 votes, and will appear on our cover in the next issue to be published on 12 March. Subscribe now!

* * *

_The Gringotts Times  
28th March, 2001_

**_MALFOY EXPANSION INTO TELECOMMUNICATIONS  
"ONLY THE BEGINNING"  
_**  
Network OWL has been taken over by MALFOY INTERNATION CORPORATION (MIC), marking the launch of MIC's national-scale investment campaign. MR. DRACO MALFOY reveals that several other integration plans will take place over a course of two years, and expects MIC to control 15pc of markets shares by the end of 2003...

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
Page 6  
19th September, 2002_

**_DRACO STEALS SHOW IN PRADA HOMME_**

DRACO MALFOY, business extraodinaire and Sexiest Man Alive, sent hordes of fans screaming (and some fainting) at a red-carpet function last night. MR. MALFOY attended the premiere of the PATIL TWINS' new motion picture_ Headstrong_, produced by MMP (MALFOY MOTION PICTURE), looking devilishly dashing in a pinstripe Prada Homme suit worn under sharply cut black robes tailor made in Paris. Rumours flying about MR. MALFOY and supermodel VIVACA have also been confirmed- I can hear the heartbreaking cries all the way from the other side of town- but yes, ladies, MR. MALFOY is officially taken.

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
Page 6  
20th September, 2002_

**_GOOD NEWS, LADIES-  
DRACO THROUGH WITH VIVACA  
_**

Reliable sources report that DRACO MALFOY has broken up with supermodel VIVACA. The couple were seen arguing outside BAR DEUX, MIC's latest venture, just after the premiere of _Headstrong_, starring the PATIL TWINS. _(see p.15 for review)..._

* * *

_The Gringotts Times  
11th November, 2003_

**_JUST AS PLANNED- MALFOY NOW OWNS 16pc OF MARKET_**

MALFOY INTERNATION CORPORATION (MIC) announced yesterday that it has finalised plans to purchase ELIXIR LTD, the largest producer and researcher of domestic and industrial use potions in the market. The takeover means that MIC has exceeded its expectations of owning up to 15pc of markets shares by the end of this year, making DRACO MALFOY one of the most accomplished entrepreneurs of all time- and definitely the youngest. At just 25, MALFOY has made his mark as a hugely successful business tycoon.

* * *

_April, 2004_

"Any plans, Mr. Malfoy?"

Without looking up, Draco listened to the rhythmic slap of newspapers as they landed on his expensive oak desk. _The Daily Prophet, The Gringott Times, Wizard's Financial Post, Wallstreet Journal, Time._

An extra slap.

Draco looked up to see his handsome face smirking at him.

"With compliments from the _Witch Daily_," grinned Zabini. "And all heterosexual witches."

"And homosexual ones as well," added Draco with a grin. He tossed the glossy magazine to Zabini. "Give it to your girlfriend. You know she has wild fantasies starring yours truly."

"Wild fantasies my arse," he snorted. "It's most likely the other way round. _You_ can't seem to hold down a woman for more than 24 hours."

"That's because I can afford to- unlike you." sneered Malfoy smugly.

Zabini rolled his eyes. "Good to know you're richer than me in more than one way. Anyway, down to business. The _Post_ is wondering when you'll take over the rest of the world."

Draco glanced at the headlines of _Wizard's Financial Post_ which bellowed, "WHAT NEXT, MR MALFOY?".

"Funny," he mused. "Yesterday they were ganging up to protest my plans for world domination, and now they can't wait for me to buy up the rest of the market."

"Sorry bastards," nodded Zabini. "Can't even stick to an opinion for more than 24 hours. We should buy them out and turn them into a proper newspaper."

"Don't be too hard on them. We won't be here without them," said Draco, leaning back easily in his chair.

Zabini raised an eyebrow.

Draco sighed. "Come on, Zabini, can't even catch a bit of sarcasm?"

"I thought insults were more of your style."

"And you know how highly I think of your opinion," he said, giving him a pointed look that said otherwise. "Send Marie in with my coffee."

Propping his feet up on his desk and crossing them at the ankle, Draco leafed through the newspapers in a specific order- the _Prophet_, then the _Times_, then the _Post_. Next was _Wallstreet Journal_. He, of course, was fully aware of the fact that it was a muggle newspaper, and that was how he stayed one step ahead. It was surprising how narrow-minded the wizarding world was when it came to finance and business, and how clever muggles were in matters of money. It was top secret though. Nobody needed to know Draco Malfoy, _MALFOY_, read muggle newspaper.

"Come in," he called out when his door was knocked on thrice, and smiled at the person who let herself in.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," purred Marie, sashaying towards his desk with his coffee in hand.

"Morning Marie," he replied, shamelessly admiring her choice of officewear. A thin, low-cut white blouse, a short and tight black skirt, five-inch red heels. He _did_ hire her for a reason.

"Busy?" she smiled saucily, bending over to set the cup down on his desk while giving him a damn good view of her underwear.

"Mmmhmm," he grinned back. "Got my hands full."

"I'll leave you to your work then," said Marie, tossing her long ginger locks over a slim shoulder. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

His eyes followed her back across the rich carpeted floor till the heavy doors swallowed her up.

She put quite a lot of ideas in his head.

Which he was still tossing about in his mind when an unexpected, sharp knock on the door nearly threw him off balance and onto the carpet.

"What?" he snapped once he had righted himself.

The stern face of his other secretary, Lindsay, (he liked to call her the external secretary, while Marie was the internal one, obviously) peered around the door.

"Mr. Johnson is waiting for you in the conference room sir," she said, her piercing eyes boring into his. "He is fifteen minutes early."

"I'll be with him in thirty minutes," said Draco, waving her away.

Unbeknownst to her, Lindsay quite scared Draco. She was a no-nonsense working woman, her blue eyes too icy and her blonde hair slicked back too severely, and totally immune to Draco's charms. Her work performance was excellent though. And she was quite a looker, when she was not busy glaring holes into people's heads.

With a shrug, Draco reached for _Time_ and let his thoughts wander back to more pleasant grounds. The wheels in his brain started creaking and spinning as he leisurely scanned the pages of politics, finance, science, and suddenly, something caught his eye as he was about to turn the page.

He blinked and raised an elegant eyebrow at his discovery.

Then he grinned.

* * *

**_S.A.M.E.: THINK GREEN_**

S.A.M.E. (Stop Abusing Mother Earth) is the latest fashion brand to jump on the ecologically friendly bandwagon. Created by fresh Central St. Martins graduate HERMIONE GRANGER, the brand offers chic designs for both men and women at affordable prices. "Everything is 100pc natural," declares Granger in her small studio in hometown London. "I want to make a difference."

To purchase, visit S.A.M.E.'s online store.

* * *

Hermione squealed to herself when she saw the article.

Granted, it was nothing more than a small box of words at the bottom right corner of the fashion page, but still, it was _Time_.

Finally. People were starting to hear about S.A.M.E. Things would start picking up, she was sure of it. It was about time as well, she had only sold less then fifteen items after she launched S.A.M.E. five months ago, and she was struggling to make ends meet.

It would get easier now, she knew it would. Every designer starts out like this, and only the ones who endured could make it to the top.

And Hermione would make it the top.

After carefully cutting out the little square, Hermione pinned it to her bulletin board, which was littered with dozens of sketches- new ideas for her second collection. She was sure that S.A.M.E. would worm its way into more magazines and newspapers. After all, who wouldn't want to go organic if they could afford to?

She too was surprised how cheap it would be to source organic materials at first, since eco-friendly clothes on the market were very expensive and often far from trendy. It turned out that it was greed that pushed up the prices. And S.A.M.E. would eliminate the problem.

Happily, Hermione put away the magazine in a box she kept under her working bench and turned her attention to other letters. Advertisements, electricity bills, water bills, more advertisements- she stopped at a letter from her bank. She flipped it over and nearly jumped at the big red letters stamped on the envelope- URGENT.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that. She had saved up a small fortune for herself by doing odd jobs and working during the summers throughout both Hogwarts and Central Saint Martins, with which she founded S.A.M.E., and a loan from the bank. She was not a skinflint, but she carefully controlled her finances and had no problem breaking even so far.

"Must be some mistake," she told herself, calmly slicing the envelope open with her letter knife.

And it dropped onto the ground with a resounding clink.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and stared at the letter.

₤35796.56.

She did a quick calculation in her head.

6992 Galleons.

"Impossible," she told herself, shaking her head firmly. "It _must_ be some kind of mistake."

It had to be. Hermione just checked her accounts two days ago, after the African company sent her the bills for the organic cotton she bought. Everything should be covered, everything should be paid for to the very last cent. She had the receipts right here, she was sure-

"Sweet Merlin," she whispered, staring at the receipts.

The bank was right.

She owed the bank ₤35796.56, on top of her ₤4000 loan.

Shakily, she sank down on her sofa, still clutching the letter and the bills.

How did this happen? How _could_ this happen? She was so confident that she had everything under control. _Everything_. She was supposed to earn enough to pay off the loan in two years and start making a profit in three.

Oh God. What on earth was she going to do?

The doorbell rang, nearly giving Hermione a heart attack. Quickly stuffing the letters under a cushion, she crossed the studio in four steps and opened the door.

"Harry," she managed, somewhat squeakily. "It's great to see you. What are you doing here?"

"It's Saturday silly, I'm here to kindap you from your precious sewing machine," said Harry chirpily, but he frowned when he saw her face. "Is everything okay? You look pale."

Hermione conjured up a fake "yeah sure, I'm okay" laugh. "Yes, I'm fine. Just, uh, I think I ate something, uh, that doesn't quite agree with my stomach. I guess I'll stay home tonight."

"Are you sure? I can take you to St. Mungo-"

"No!" she practically yelled. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, no thank you," she amended, clearing her throat uneasily. "I think I'll just go to bed early and drink some warm water. I'll be fine, honest."

Harry smiled. "If you insist."

"Yes, I do," she smiled back, if not tightly. "Enjoy your evening with Ginny."

"If you need me, we're at the Charmed Witches tonight."

"Got it," she nodded. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Harry grinned as he stepped back. "I never have to worry about you, 'Mione. You're always the sensible one."

She smiled weakly and closed the door, collapsing against it.

For the first time in three years, Hermione wished she had just stuck to her job at the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this on impulse. Inspiration struck me like lightning and I couldn't sleep till I had this typed out. I confess, I'm not a big fan of the Harry Potter books, but I am a fan of Harry Potter fanfiction. I did my research on Muggle Net before writing this, but if I made any mistakes, please point them out to me so I don't make a big fool out of myself. I'd love feedback- this IS my first Harry Potter fic after all! Let me know if you want me to continue this.


	2. Contract

Chapter 2: Contract_  
_

_What usually comes first is the contract- _Benjamin Disraeli

* * *

Hermione decided she did need a drink after all.

But instead of the Charmed Witches, she went to the pub only a few steps from her studio and had a few Bloody Mary's, then stumbled all the way back to her studio. She was certain that she would be horribly hungover the next day, but surely that would be less painful than facing the... how much was it again? £149873257? Merlin, she wanted an_ adventure_, not a godawful _debt_.

She stepped into the little coffin of a lift and pushed the button of her floor, waiting for the door to rumble close.

Hermione silently watched the orange circles light up floor after floor. She wasn't sure what her next step would be. Go bankrupt?

The lift door opened with a merry "ping!".

"No!" she told herself firmly. Hermione Granger never gave up. She would get herself out of this mess she got herself into. She would show them she _could_ survive. She would show them Hermione Granger was more than just books and exams. Oh yes, she would.

Those thoughts sent an extra spring into her steps. Well, as much spring as she could manage without falling over in her drunken state.

Reaching her white door, with a "S.A.M.E." sign hanging on a nail, she grasped the door knob and turned.

She stopped short when she was about to push the door open.

Something wasn't right. Somewhere in her hazy brain an alarm went off.

What _was_ it? She bit her lips and racked her brain for an answer, but was cut off by a strong dizzy spell.

Wincing, she walked into her studio.

And immediately scrambled backwards and slammed the door shut, pulling on the door knob with all her might.

_That's it!_ she thought triumphantly. Someone had broken into her studio! She always locked her door, but someone had unlocked it!

Hanging on the door knob, she vaguely noticed that it was not quite the conventional way to deal with a burglar, since she was locking him in instead of out. But well, desperate situations called for desperate measures.

"Come in Granger," a voice drawled suddenly, making her jump, but she kept her hands on the knob. "I don't bite."

She furrowed her brow. That voice sounded familiar. That cold, sneering voice with the slight drawl. Hmmm... who was it?

When the answer came to her, she gasped and threw the door open.

"What are _you_ doing in my house, Malfoy?" she all but yelled into the darkness, falling back on the door.

The lights turned on with a click, and she found herself face to face to the one single person... _thing_ that she hated most on the entire planet.

He smirked at her. "Tut-tut. Where are your manners, Granger?"

"My _manners_?" she scoffed, waving her hands around dramatically. She didn't have that much control over her limbs after a few drinks. "How about my _lawyer_? I could totally _sue_ you for breaking into my house!"

"Are you telling me this is a _house_?" He cast a look of disdain around her studio. "It looks more like a rathole to me."

Hermione wheezed angrily. Not that she wheezed often, it was not a very mature thing to do, but considering the fact that she was drunk, she forgave herself.

"Not everyone chooses to live off their _daddy's_ money, Malfoy," she bit out. "Some people can actually hold out_ on their own_."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you are managing quite well," said Malfoy silkily. "After all, you _are_ Hermione know-it-all Granger."

A retort was on the tip of her tongue when he suddenly whipped around and walked to her sofa, and sat down, sprawling across the cushions as if he owned the place.

"Which is why," he continued. "I wonder how you came to the possession of this intriguing letter?"

She must have done a pretty good imitation of a fish out of water as she stared at her Letter of Doom in the hands of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione nearly bowed over as another wave of nausea attacked. She breathed in deeply, and managed not to throw up right in front of Malfoy.

She preferred emptying her stomach _on_ him.

"I demand you give the documents back to me," she said in an admirably firm voice, gritting her teeth. "You have no right to interfere with my private matters, you git."

Malfoy had the nerve to grin. "Then you should've tucked it away safely, Granger."

"Look, will you tell me why you're here now? Besides nosing around my financial accounts?" she mustered enough energy to send him a good glare.

"Aren't you more interested in _how_ I found my way here?"

"I asked you a question, Malfoy, _answer_ it!" she snapped.

"Keep your pants on, Granger," he jeered. "It's not like you have any other activities on your late night agenda, am I right?"

"You're begging me to hex you, Malfoy," growled Hermione. "And I have a great one in mind. Do you fancy a some antlers? They may actually look good with your ferret face. And oh, scientists may even get a clue what a cross-breed of a ferret and a reindeer would look like."

"You can't hex me, Granger," Malfoy faked a yawn.

"Oh yes I can!"

"No, you can't," he deadpanned. Hermione gasped when Malfoy took out her wand from his robes. "Unless, of course, you use wandless magic."

She was practically shaking with anger. "You, you... you-"

"Speechless Granger?"

Hermione's eyes alighted on her pair of extra-large scissors she used to cut out patterns from tougher fabrics.

"No, just busy fantasising your bloody death," she said sweetly, grabbing the scissors and pointing it at him somewhat unsteadily. "Now, answer my question."

"Merlin you mad woman!" he whipped out his wand. "Are you drunk?"

"Yes, I am," she answered. "So you'd better not provoke me, or I won't be responsible for my actions."

"Alright, just put down that- that damn _thing_," barked Malfoy.

"Scared, Malfoy?" smirked Hermione.

He snorted.

"Give me my wand first," she held out her hand.

He rolled his eyes. "_Fine_," he said and tossed it to her.

Wrapping her fingers round her wand, she placed the scissors back in its box and asked, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

He stared straight at her, and said one word, "You."

Hermione blanched and to her horror, a blush bloomed stubbornly despite her desperate attempts to stifle it, and Malfoy arched an elegant eyebrow.

"Unfortunately for you, not in the way you're hoping," he said, curling his lips scornfully.

Her mouth fell open. "I'm not... what! You pervert! Oh great, now I really _need_ to throw up."

She felt rather than heard Malfoy cast the sobriety spell on her. Ice cold chills ran through her veins and instantly expelled all the fuzziness in her brain. Thank Merlin for magic.

"Now that you're sober, listen to me," said Malfoy crisply, obviously meaning business, gesturing for her to sit down.

She sighed and complied, dragging a chair from across the room and sitting at a safe distance from Malfoy. "Go on."

"I want to hire you," he continued. "I need-"

"You want to _what_?" she blinked.

"Are you deaf, Granger?" scowled Malfoy. "I said I want to hire you."

Hermione laughed then. She threw back her head and really _laughed_.

"What," he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Is so funny?"

She stopped, and shook her head. "I'm not going to work for you, Malfoy."

He frowned. "Why not?"

She had the urge to laugh again, but stopped at the stern frown on his face.

"Just _because_," she said, flexing her hand in a "duh" manner.

"How eloquent of you," Malfoy drawled.

Hermione threw him a glare. "Okay, here's the deal. You hate me, I hate you more. How can you expect me to work _for_ you?"

He leaned forward and propped his elbow on his knee. "This is nothing personal, Granger. It's just business."

She stared at him. "Don't tell me you're quoting _the Apprentice_."

When he didn't answer, she gasped, "You watch _the Apprentice_!"

After Granger was done with her laughs, she finally listened to Draco's proposal- _business_ proposal.

"So, you want me to design a collection for your company," she concluded, a thoughtful look on her face.

He nodded. "I'll pay your debts, I'll buy up your stock, I'll pay for everything you need."

She was silent for a few minutes. Draco could literally hear the wheels turning in that brain of hers, under the horrendous hair she had tied into a ponytail.

"What's in it for you?"

Draco's eyes snapped up to hers. "Pardon?"

"What's in it for you?" she repeated. "You'll never do anything if it doesn't benefit you in some way."

"You know me too well, Granger," he smirked lazily.

"So?"

"What's in it for me, as you put it, is a new market," he answered truthfully. "Surely you can see the potential in wizarding fashion?"

"So you mean to introduce _Muggle_ fashion into the wizarding world?" Her eyes were so wide that you would have thought she was staring at a freaking five-headed owl.

"Precisely."

"But you hate Muggles," she pointed out bluntly.

"As I said before, it's nothing personal," he replied boredly.

She went quiet again. Impatiently, Draco glanced at his charmed watch. It was near midnight.

"Come on, Granger, we don't have all bloody night," he drawled.

"Why me?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Why not another witch?"

Draco sighed. Damn that I-need-to-know-everything-down-to-the-socks-you-wear Granger. "Because you're Muggle-born. In case you weren't listening, I'm planning on _combining _Muggle and wizarding fashion to create a new market for my company. Who else do you suggest I hire?"

"How about Parvati? She used to be smitten with fashion when she was in Hogwarts," she recalled.

He felt like smacking her. "Granger, where have you _been_? Have you completely cut yourself off from the wizarding world?"

"I've been busy," she admitted. "There's enough going on here."

"Well, the Patil twins are now movie stars," Draco informed her dryly.

Granger's eyes bulged very unattractively. "_Movie_ stars? You mean there are _movies_ now?"

"Produced by yours truly," said Draco smugly. "You really need to read up on the _Daily Prophet_. So, have you decided yet?"

She glared at him. "Why the rush?"

"Because I plan to show the collection very soon."

"What do you mean by 'very soon'?"

Draco was about to explode. "Look, Granger. Either you take the job, or not. I'm not going to ask twice."

Her shoulder sagged as she slumped against her chair. Draco could see that she was fighting quite a battle with herself, by the way her face was set grimly and her fingers were clenched.

It was so quiet that Draco could hear the clock on the wall tick.

"Well?" he broke the silence.

She sat up and held out her hand. "Contract."

With a smirk, Draco extracted said contract from the hidden pocket of his robes, and handed it to her.

She read it silently, no doubt picking apart each and every word, considering just how much she trusted him.

"Why a secrecy clause?" she asked suspiciously.

"The element of surprise is very often the key to business success, Miss Granger," he lectured with an air of a seasoned businessman. "It applies to both parties, of course. I suppose you wouldn't want people to know that Hermione Granger, Hero of the War, has fallen to such a low?"

"Fine," she snapped. "I'll take the job."

Draco hoped she did not see his relief.

"Kindly sign the contract then," he said lightly.

Granger rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Malfoy, do you think I'll sign a contract written by _you_? It could be jinxed. I'll write another contract, and I'll owl it to you tomorrow morning."

Malfoy shrugged. "Suit yourself. I expect you to start working tomorrow. Where do you intend to move to?"

"Why should I move?" she asked.

He gave her a look. "You mean to work _here_?"

"What's wrong with my place?"

"What if I need to check up on your progress?"

"Then you can come here! You came here tonight."

Draco got up to his feet. "Oh no, Granger, you're moving and that's final."

She crossed her arms and glared up at him. "Make me, Malfoy."

He simpy held up her letter between two fingers and smiled very unpleasantly at her. "I don't think I need to. Report to me at my office at nine tomorrow morning."

Without another word, Draco left her studio in a flurry of expensive black robes with a satisfied grin on his face.

* * *

Edited 28 May 2012

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! It really surprised me that so many of you enjoyed the story. I already have 14 of you on the alert list! I hope I have Hermione and Draco in character in this chapter, it's my first time writing interaction between them and I hope I got it right. Again, if I have made any mistakes, please point them out to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

I will be gone from 4 June to 15 June on a trip to Australia. Don't miss me too much.


	3. Hired

Chapter 3: Hired

_The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one_- Oscar Wilde

* * *

"Seventy-two minutes."

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?"

She stood up from the chair in the corner and bit out, "I said, you are seventy-two minutes_ late_."

He made a big show of checking the time on his watch. "I'm afraid I you're mistaken, I always go to work at ten."

"If that is the case, then you are twelve minutes late, _Mr Malfoy_," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "Unfortunately, that is not the case. You told me to report to you at nine this morning. _Nine_. You just wasted an hour and twelve minutes of my life, are you happy now?"

"Now, Miss Granger, where are your manners?"

"Don't you dare question mine when you don't even have the decency to-"

He started walking towards his desk and snorted. "Come off it Granger, it's ten in the morning. I really don't need one of your morality lectures right now. Who are you, my mother?"

Hermione glared at him and said coldly. "No. Because the last time I checked, your mother is dead."

"Say whatever you want to say about my dead mother, you can't rattle me with that," sneered Malfoy.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon it was _you_ who brought her up!"

"Whatever Granger," said Malfoy flatly, setting his suitcase down on his desk. "What do you want?"

She walked up to the grand oak table and slammed the contract onto its waxed surface, giving Malfoy her best scowl. "Contract."

He smirked and sat down opposite to her. "How efficient of you, Granger."

She curled her lips in disdain, watching him smooth out the document neatly in front of him. Then he shrugged his robes off to reveal an immaculate black suit (which cost a fortune, no doubt) underneath, and a silky green tie (typical), while reading the terms silently. She sighed and sank down into one of the plushy armchairs facing Malfoy, carefully placing her briefcase on the carpeted floor.

"'No animal products, by-products or any products undergone animal-testing?'" he read aloud, and lifted his sharp chin to raise an eyebrow at her.

"I'm a vegan," she answered.

"Care to explain?"

"I don't eat animals or use animal products," she replied curtly.

"So no fur, no leather?"

"No, I'm against animal cruelty," she affirmed.

"Well, that won't do, they are the most traditional materials of wizarding fashion," said Malfoy, leaning back on his chair.

"I don't care. I _refuse_ to work with fur or leather," said Hermione emotionally, subconsciously leaning forward in her seat. "Do you have _any_ idea how much _pain_ these poor animals suffer? They are practically stuffed into cages before they are skinned _alive_-"

"Granger, you can't save the world, you know," interrupted Malfoy rudely.

"Well, at least I'm doing what I can do," she pointed out. "Unlike _some_ people."

"Excuse me if I'm not up to your _saintly _standards," scoffed Malfoy, brushing off imaginary dust from his shoulder.

"It's not the end of the wolrd you know," protested Hermione. "Haven't you heard of artificial fur and leather? Do you know how many lives we can save by boycotting-"

She broke off when Malfoy picked up a quill and started writing rapidly on the parchment. "What are you _doing_?"

"Flying. What does it look like I'm doing?" he snorted without looking up.

"You can't do that, I cast a-"

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly. "Apparently you forgot that the employer is exempt from the Read-only charm."

Hermione nearly slapped herself. "Oh."

"Oh," he echoed mockingly. "How eloquent of you."

She resisted a strong temptation to smack that head of sleek blonde hair with her briefcase.

"Sign," he commanded, swivelling the contract around and pushed it across the polished surface of the desk to her.

She expected his handwriting to be horridly untidy, but it turned out to be very elegant and clean.

"'All matters of ambuguity shall be solely subjected to DRACO MALFOY'S decisions without dispute from any other party'," she read. "But that's not fair!"

"What _is_ fair?" he asked rhetorically. "Look, Granger, it works both ways. I give you full control of the project, I get full control of my staff. It's perfect."

"Full _control_ of your staff? What are we? Your pawns?"

Malfoy reclined easily in his seat and addressed the ceiling. "Think of what I'm offering you, Granger. Then you'll see."

Think, she did.

He would pay off her debts and buy up all her unsold stock.

He would pay for all expenses of the collection.

He would let her stay in her own apartment, rent-free.

He would keep her financial troubles a secret.

He would give her the biggest paycheck she had ever received in her life.

Basically, he was offering her a life.

And it would be stupid of her not to take it.

"Alright," she decided. "Alright."

Taking the quill he offered her, her heart pounding wildly in her ribcage, she scrawled her signature on the contract and sealed her fate.

Malfoy did the same, then thumped the company seal- a green dragon curled around a sword- on the parchment. Hermione watched the ink sink into the contract before he rolled the parchment up and tied it with a green silk ribbon in a flourish.

"Welcome to Malfoy International, Miss Granger," he said silkily.

She did not like that smile.

* * *

"And _this_ is your apartment."

Hermione's eyes widened when they alighted upon the stylish space before her.

The two women were standing on the 66th floor of MIC's latest development, Malfoy Luxury Flats.

"Wow," she managed to say. "This is _gorgeous_."

Marie, the leggy redhead Malfoy summoned to take her to her apartment, swaggered into the apartment like she owned it.

"The phone is connected to the company line, press 5 if you want to speak to me," Marie informed Hermione without looking at her. "My suite's on floor 78, number 782 if you need me. And Mr Malfoy's right next to me." She gave Hermione a pompous smile.

"I thought Mr Malfoy lived at his place? Malfoy Manor?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Oh, he moved out years ago," replied Marie with a dismissive wave of her slender hand. "Haven't you heard?"

"I've been... away."

"Is there anything else you need?"

Hermione looked around the apartment. "Well, I need to move my things in here from my studio. Can Mr Malfoy arrange a car? He knows where my studio is."

"Oh alright," said Marie airily. "When do you need the car?"

"At three this afternoon."

"Anything else?"

"No, but please remember to ask for a car-" said Hermione, but was rudely interrupted mid-sentence as Marie headed out of the door.

"Yeah I will."

The door slammed shut.

"Insolent little twit," muttered Hermione under her breath.

But at least the apartment was stunning.

And the best part? She didn't have to pay rent. To think that her rubbish little studio had cost a staggering £150 a week!

She couldn't help but grin widely. This flat was _huge_. She was standing in the living room, tastefully furnished in shades of cream, black and grey on a brilliant white marble floor. The furniture was streamlined and minimalistic, very modern and undoubtedly very expensive. There was a television. A _television_! It looked like a Plasma, but on closer inspection it was also a Malfoy production.

_What a diverse business_, thought Hermione with a snort.

Ron would _love_ the enormous kitchen, it was twice as big as her studio and equipped with all kinds of culinary technology. Ron discovered his kitchen talents a couple of years ago and now had his own trendy restaurant, Chez Weasley in Hogsmeade, which was critically acclaimed. How unfortunate that the kitchen was absolutely no use to her. She lived on Chinese takeaway.

Kicking off her shoes and leaving them lying in the middle of her living room (_her_ living room, she liked the sound of that), she ventured into the corridor framed by a sleek chrome arc. A quick glance told her that there were five doors, one at the end of the corridor, two on either side.

Opening the first door on her right, she squealed in excitement. A library! A _charmed_ library, at that! Meaning that Hermione could insert as many walls as she wanted to accommodate for her books. Thank Merlin for magic. The door across the library was a small but lavish bathroom complete with both a luxurious bathtub installed on a platform and a shower. The room next to the bathroom was a simple study.

She stopped in front of a door that was translucent green, before reaching out to grasp the handle- it slid sideways instead of opening inwards.

Hermione gasped aloud at the chrome workbenches, neatly aligned in the middle of the room. Bare mannequins lined the wall on the right, on the opposite wall was a gigantic chalk board, by the door was a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and at the far end, rows and rows of metallic arms protruded from the white wall, obviously custom made for hanging fabrics.

She could have broken down and cried.

Maybe she did make the right decision after all. She was given free rein to create an entire collection for the most prominent company in the wizarding world, all expenses would be paid for her. There would be no sighing over finely spun silk she couldn't afford, no sleepless nights fretting over whether she could make ends meet, no waiting in her studio for someone, _anyone_ to come and buy something. Any sane person would _kill_ for her job.

Granted, there was the little problem in the form of her boss, but nothing was perfect. Well, she didn't expect him to hang around watching her sew buttons. He did have more important things to do after all. Like getting into his secretary's pants.

It didn't take a genius to make out why he hired that airhead. And it was certainly not because of her intelligence.

Shaking herself out of her trance, her eyes caught the wallclock winking at her.

Ten minutes to two. She'd better hurry.

After all, there might be a bouncy bed waiting for her to jump on in the room next door.

* * *

"Did Lindsay just tell me you hired Miss Granger, or is my hearing going bad?"

Draco looked up and grinned. "Yes, I hired Granger."

Blaise's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I'm sorry, I must be mistaken. Did you, _Draco Malfoy_, just hire _Hermione Granger_, the Hogwarts golden girl?"

"So what if I did?"

"Well, I thought you hated her guts," reasoned Zabini, making himself comfortable in the chair Granger had earlier in the morning.

"How many times do I have to tell you this? It's just-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, _business_," finished Zabini, waving his hands about. "Why did you hire her without telling me?"

Draco snorted. "Excuse me, I had no idea I have to inform my head of operations of every decision I make."

"Which post did you assign her to?"

"It's a secret."

His eyes bulged out unattractively. "A secret?"

"Yes, there's a secrecy clause in the contract," answered Draco.

"And since when did you bother with those overrated pieces of paper?" asked Zabini with a chuckle.

"Trust me, Granger wouldn't get me a coffee without making me sign a ten-page oath on the pain of death."

"It's a wonder she'd do _anything_ for you really, Malfoy," commented Zabini, propping his feet clad in fine leather shoes up on the desk. "Considering the bad blood between you two."

"I told you Zabini-"

"Yeah, yeah, nothing personal and all that crap. But still, it's _Granger_ we're talking about," he continued. "Did you hypnotise her or something?"

"There's something more effective than potions and spells, Zabini."

"And that is?"

There were a few tinkles of coins as they landed on the desk.

"Money," grinned Draco cunningly.

Blaise looked unconvinced. "She must have been in quite a sticky situation, if she agreed to work for you for the sake of money."

"Think whatever you like. I don't have to explain myself to you, nor can I read Granger's mind. Now get the hell out of my office Zabini, I'm done talking."

"Good, you can listen then. I've got plenty of time in my hands-"

"Did it ever occur to you that_ I_ may be busy?"

"Busy with what exactly?"

"Business."

Zabini laughed. "Business my arse. You can say her name you know. It's _Marie_."

"Shut up Zabini."

"_Marrrriiieeee oh baby that's right_- ow! Are you insane? That bloody _hurt_!" he cried out, rubbing his forehead where it was starting to bruise from the impact of the quill stand.

"It was supposed to."

"You're so dead when Pansy sees this."

"Yeah, go running to your girlfriend and cry your eyes out Zabini," grinned Draco.

Zabini glared at his boss/life-long friend.

Draco sighed dramatically. "I knew you are thick in the head, but anyone would take that as a cue to leave."

The door then opened with a click and Marie entered.

"Oh," she said daintily. "I didn't know you were in here, Mr Zabini."

"No worries, Marie, I was just leaving," grinned Blaise, plastering his hand to his forehead. "I'll leave you two alone then," he added with a wink at Marie, and shot Draco a look that clearly said "you horny bastard" then closed the door.

"Did you bring the Warner files, Marie?" called out Draco for good measure.

"Oh yes, Mr Malfoy," she answered with a sly smile. "There is a_ lot_ to discuss."

Neither noticed when the clock chimed thrice.

* * *

Edited 28 May 2012

One more update before I fly to Australia! Thank you for the amazing reviews, everyone! I can't believe this fic has amassed so many readers already. Thank you the 14 of you who listed this fic as a favourite and 34 who put it on alert! I'm really flattered lol. I think it may be two weeks before I update, so here's a snippet of what would come next:

"Do you have _any _idea how much fabric you just _wasted_? Washed down the drain, literally?"

Malfoy drawled offhandedly. "No. So sue me. Or better yet, why don't you form one of those stupid societies you're so fond of? You can call it F.A.B.R.I.C. Federation Against Berserk Ruining of Indonesian Cloth. Or W.A.S.T.E.D. War Against Stupid and Terribly Emotional Designers. Actually, I'm planning on join the last one. There really should be laws to protect us innocent citizens from the wrath of radical vegan designers-"

_Whack!_

"Ow! What in Merlin's name are you do-" _whack! _"Auugh! You bit-" _whack!_ "Stop! Are you m-" _whack! _"GRANGER!"

See you! I would reply to your individual reviews later. As for anonymous reviewers, know that I'm very happy to learn that you're really enjoying the story!_  
_


	4. Soaked

Chapter 4: Soaked

_Maybe you don't like your job, maybe you didn't get enough sleep, well nobody likes their job, nobody got enough sleep. Maybe you just had the worst day of your life, but you know, there's no escape, there's no excuse, so just suck up and be nice.- _Ani Difranco

* * *

"DRACO MALFOY!"

Draco winced when the tip of his quill snapped at the jolt of his arm thanks to the untimely announcement accompanied by a thunderous slam of the door.

He sighed and said, "Granger, I know you are a masochistic perfectionist in everything you do but I really do not need progress reports four times a day. Which is why I wonder you are yelling like a banshee in my office without my permission, and-" he paused when his eyes landed on a very angry and very wet Hermione Granger standing by his door. "And why are you dripping all over my carpet?"

"It's been raining," she replied almost laboriously, as if she was talking around a mouth of marbles.

"And you found it amusing to stand in the rain then wet my carpet?"

"No," she spat, her teeth grinding. "I've been waiting for a car to pick me up outside my studio so I wouldn't have to walk all the way. But _apparently_, Marie _forgot_ to ask you to arrange that because she was having a meeting of very high _intellectual_ value with you. It must have been highly _engrossing_ since Lindsay couldn't get your attention even when she was banging on your door. Which, of course, resulted in me hauling my 254-pound luggage from my studio to your office. On foot. And don't even ask why I didn't apparate."

Draco cleared his throat, secretly feeling a a bit threatened by the look Granger was giving him. "Yes, it was a very important meeting. We were discussing the Warner case, if you know what I mean."

"Of course, the purchase was wrapped up two weeks ago," replied Granger snappily. "But considering her cerebral capacity, I suppose Marie needs the hindsight."

"If you knew Marie has such limited cerebral capacity, why did you ask her for a favour in the first place?" asked Draco, pretending to tidy up his paperwork.

"Because your other secretary is up to her eyesballs doing all the work for your other secretary," she answered, crossing her arms. Draco noticed that her black t-shirt was clinging to her body in a way that Granger wouldn't have allowed. Prude.

"Are you ganging up on me with Lindsay already?"

"I don't 'gang up' on anyone," she protested. "I'm just stating the facts that you find so convenient to overlook."

Draco gave her a look. "I didn't know you were a feminist, Granger. You were always hanging around with Potty and Weasel."

"I'm not a feminist," she shot back, reaching up to push a wet strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. "I'm just speaking out for Lindsay. It's unfair that she has to work so hard when all Marie does is curling her eyelashes."

He snorted. "Granger, you've only been here for less than eight hours. How the hell would you know?"

"I said Lindsay told me!"

"Ha, and you deny you're ganging up on me?"

"That's not ganging up on you! There's something called conversation!"

"Yes, which is something we cannot carry out like civilised people," said Draco solemnly.

"Well, that's _your _fault," glowered Granger.

"How mature of you, Granger," observed Draco.

"And it's _really_ mature of you to call people names," she snorted. Her eyes softened a tad as she continued. "I can't see why you still have a grudge against Harry and Ron. You worked _together_ in the Order, for Merlin's sake."

Draco arced an eyebrow. "Well, so did we. But did things change between us?"

"It's different," she said quickly.

"How so?"

The glare returned abruptly as the fact that they had not been yelling at each other in the last five seconds sank in.

"Don't you change the topic, Draco Malfoy," she snapped.

"Fine, what were we talking about?" he asked, leaning back on his chair. "Actually, I forget why I am letting you talk at all when I have much more improtant things to do."

"Because you've made a mistake and you know it."

Draco sat up straight at that. "I beg your pardon, Granger. Malfoys don't make mistakes. The word isn't in our vocabulary."

"Oh please, your entire _life_ was a mistake."

Draco didn't even realise how hard that hit him until he found himself on his feet and in five strides crossed the room, glaring down at her.

"You take that back, Granger," he growled venomously in her face.

It was obvious that she wasn't going to back down without a fight. "You- you- Malfoy, it's not my fault that you're choosing to take it the wrong way."

"Which way should I take then?" he snapped.

"I was referring to Marie!" she protested. "The stupid decision of hiring her, okay? Merlin, how sensitive can you get?"

Draco knew what precisely she was referring to, thanks very much.

"Yeah, right. You're a horrible liar, Granger," he seethed.

"I'm not lying!" she exclaimed, turning beet red. "I really was talking about Marie!"

If she was that adament, he'd to play along. "So what's next, Granger? A lecture on how to choose a secretary?"

"Will you stop making fun of me for one moment?"

He snorted at that. "I did not make fun of you. I insulted you."

"That won't be a first," she muttered darkly, turning her face away.

Only then did he notice that he was standing way too close. Putting on a cool smirk, he took a step back from her thoroughly soaked frame, and then the words somehow spilt out of his lips without taking the route through his brain.

"I don't need a bloody lecture from anyone. The least of all from you, Granger," he sneered. He was actually surprised to hear his own voice, it could've frozen the Amazon in five seconds flat. "In case you haven't noticed, I own the biggest business in wizarding London and perhaps in all London, and you, are at my mercy. I would be nicer to me if I were you."

The tension was as thick as blood as they just stood there, glaring at each other so hard as if they were trying to suck the living daylight out of each other by the sheer force they were radiating through their eyes.

Hermione didn't notice that she was heaving in anger until the sound of her panting reached her ears. She was literally bristling. She wouldn't be surprised if she managed to dry herself just by being mad at Malfoy. Sweet Merlin, why, why,_ why_ did she sign the contract? He was a slave-driver, a playboy, a thoroughly bad person- and he looked so good in his suit.

Damn.

She should have just sold her soul to the devil.

Malfoy broke eye contact first and commented lightly, "By the way, you're still dripping all over my carpet."

She shook herself out of her trance and retorted, "You can only blame yourself for your incompetency in hiring a secretary like Marie."

"Now, now, Granger, what did we just discuss about attitudes?"

"We discussed nothing," huffed Hermione. "You _threatened_ me."

"That wouldn't have been necessary if you weren't acting like a wailing banshee."

"I did _not _act like a banshee!" she said through clenched teeth, crossing her arms. "You were acting like a complete ferr-"

"I really am not in the mood for any more ridiculous comments on my resemblence to an ugly animal. I'm anything _but _ugly," said Malfoy wryly, and sauntered back to his desk while smoothing out his tie. "Now get the hell out of my face."

"Oh no, Malfoy, I'm not done talking."

He turned around and shot her a bored look, leaning on his two hands pressed palms down on the desk. "I'm done listening."

Hermione ignored him and bent down to pick up the roll of fabric she had deposited on the carpet after her entrance as a fuming volcano, and walked towards his desk at which he had seated himself comfortably.

"This," she informed him, "is a very special fabric imported from Indonesia, 100 percent organic. It is woven from three different variations of the cotton plant in a factory in the poorest region of the country. Everything is done by hand, from threading to weaving to dying. The fabric is very delicate and shrinks when it is wet, so it can only be dry-washed and has to be handled very carefully-"

"Granger, I suggest you bore someone else with your Indonesian fabric trivia," deadpanned Malfoy, opening a file labelled "Watts Telecommunications" and pretended to start reading. "I, unlike you, am a very busy entrepreneur."

Ignoring him, she continued, "The weavers who work in the factory are single women who all have families to support."

She stopped and waited for some kind of response, but he simply leafed through his files as if she were nonexistent.

"They work _fifteen_ hours a day just to feed their children," she tried again.

He looked up and stared at her.

Hermione placed a hand on her hip. "You don't get it, do you?"

Malfoy blinked. "Is there anything to 'get' at all?"

"This," Hermione shook the roll in front of his face, "is the sweat and blood of those women."

"So?" asked Malfoy.

Hermione emitted a sound that was somewhere between a strangled groan and a frustrated shriek.

"Those underprivileged women spend thirty-three hours on just one roll of fabric. One!" She put one finger up to emphasize her point. "Do you have _any _idea how much fabric you just _wasted_? Washed down the drain, literally?"

Malfoy drawled offhandedly. "No. So sue me. Or better yet, why don't you go pioneer another one of those stupid societies you're so fond of? You can call it F.A.B.R.I.C. Federation Against Berserk Ruining of Indonesian Cloth. Or W.A.S.T.E.D. War Against Stupid and Terribly Emotional Designers. Actually, I'm planning on join the latter. There really should be laws to protect us innocent citizens from the wrath of radical vegan designers-"

_Whack!_

"Ow! What in Merlin's name are you do-" _whack! _"Auugh! You bit-" _whack!_ "Stop! Are you m-" _whack! _"GRANGER!"

She yelped when Malfoy grabbed the other end of the roll and pulled with more force than she thought his slender frame would've possibly mustered, and was unceremoniously hauled onto his mahogany desk, face down, while still hanging on for dear life.

"Let go, Malfoy!" shrieked Hermione, thoroughly embarrassed to be half-sprawled on his desk in a most unelegant position.

With a grunt, Malfoy wrestled the weapon from Hermione's grip and, in a tangle of her own limbs, she tumbled off the table and onto the plush carpet with a shrill screech, bringing half of the desk's paperwork and a few ornate vases down with her, which shattered when they hit each other in mid-air.

Meanwhile, a few metres away, Blaise Zabini stepped out of the lift just in time to hear a terrible crash from behind the doors of Malfoy's office and a womanly voice screaming his name.

"What did he do this time?" he asked like a distressed father. "Did he break another of her 400-galleons-manicured nails?"

"That happened an hour ago," reported Lindsay. "Marie is already at her manicurist."

"So you're telling me there's someone else other than me and Marie who can get Malfoy's knickers in such a twist?" Blaise faked a mortified look.

"Yes," answered the secretary, making it very clear that she did not find it funny.

"I'm going in then," he told her. She shrugged and returned her attention to her laptop.

After patting off some imaginary dust from his shoulder, Blaise winked at Lindsay (who shot him a look that told him to stop dallying and get in there) then pushed the doors open in a flourish-

-and was rooted to the floor when something that looked like a pole sailed through the air and only missed him by a mere inch.

"Who do you _think _you are to talk like that?"

Blaise's eyes snapped to the woman who was yelling at Malfoy like Pansy often yelled at himself. She looked vaguely familiar. The brown hair and the pale skin. Wait, was she soaked to the skin?

"You're still the selfish, spoiled brat who thinks the world revolves around you!" she continued at an admirable vocal level.

"At least I'm not still playing superhero, Granger," snickered a very flushed Malfoy from across the room by the bookshelf.

Ah! Hermione Granger. Of course.

Blaise smiled. He contented himself with closing the doors with a quiet click and leant back to watch the game.

Meanwhile Granger had crossed her arms defensively and said, "I never said I'm out to save the world."

"Of course you're not. You just happen to have an obsession with societies with disgusting names like SPEW-"

"It's S.P.E.W.," she bit out.

"Exactly." Malfoy spread his arms out as if making a point. "Get real, Granger. You can't even save yourself."

Blaise perked up. What? Hermione Granger couldn't save herself?

"Besides you are such a sissy like- ZABINI!"

Shit.

Blaise winced, but promptly pasted on a wide smile and said, "Malfoy! Glad you noticed me standing there mate. And that you think I'm a sissy." He swung to his right and gave Granger his most charming smile. "Miss Granger! So good to have you here at Malfoy International. We need brains like yours, we really do."

"Zabini, what the hell are you doing in here?" snapped Malfoy, very ungraciously, in his opinion.

"Well I heard some pretty ominous sounds in here, I thought there might be trouble of some sort," he explained, surveying the room which was disarranged, to say the least. "I guess I was right, wasn't I?"

Malfoy nodded at Hermione and started cleaning up with a few muttered charms. "_She's_ all the trouble."

Blaise watched her eyes widen in fury as she gasped, "I beg your pardon, who are _you_ calling trouble?"

Malfoy obviously did not know how the saying "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" went, or he simply had a death wish, because he went on harshly.

"I'm sorry, did I call you a '_she_'? My mistake!"

Blaise nearly slapped him for saying that to a lady (because he was a very chivalrous man, unlike Malfoy), but Hermione beat him to it. Or would've, if he hadn't stepped in and held her back.

"Now, now, Miss Granger, calm down," he said soothingly, patting her back, which was rising and falling rapidly. "Malfoy's just trying to get a rise out of you. Now take a deeeep breath-"

"What are you, Zabini, her midwife?" sneered Malfoy, furiously thrusting misplaced papers back onto his table.

Blaise laughed good-naturedly. "You seriously need anger management classes, mate, that's all I can say."

"No objections to that," he heard Granger murmur as she freed herself from his grasp.

"Believe me, she needs them more than I do," returned Malfoy, easing into his chair.

When Hermione stood up again she had a bag on each shoulder and clutching one to her stomach.

"I want my cloth back, Malfoy," she said frostily.

Blaise looked on as Malfoy picked up the pole that nearly hit him and tossed it from hand to hand.

"And get whacked like a fly?" he snorted. "Thanks, but no thanks, Granger. Get out of my office. Now."

She made a disgusted noise but said nothing, then simply slammed the door close behind her so hard that a few books fell from their rightful places.

"No wonder you have a new woman on your arm every twenty minutes," commented Blaise.

Malfoy barked a humourless laugh. "Please. Hermione Granger? A woman? Try female troll. An insane female troll at that."

"So what was that about?" he asked, grabbing one of the chairs that was miles away from where it should be and pushed it back to its place, sitting down.

"Zabini?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you just drop it?"

"That bad, huh?"

Malfoy only glared at him.

Blaise grinned. "I'll drop it if you tell me what Miss Granger's doing for the company."

"I'll do neither," replied Malfoy firmly.

"Then I guess I can't invite you to our housewarming dinner this weekend," lamented Blaise.

Malfoy sighed deeply. "Just get out, Zabini."

"Worn you out, hasn't she?" he asked cheeikly, eyeing his loose tie and disheveled hair.

Blaise made a run for it before Malfoy's quill stand hit him a second time that day.

* * *

Edited 28 May 2012

I'm back! Sorry for taking so long to update, I've been very busy but I'm glad I've finally typed this up. Thanks for the amazing reviews guys, they really push me on to write better and longer chapters. The statistics are amazing, thanks to everyone who added this story to their favourites and alerts! I really appreciate it. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I've written it three times to get it right. The next update might take a while because I have other projects right now, but of course, I'll update as soon as I can, no worries!


	5. Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 5: Smoke & Mirrors

_I'm a walking, talking enigma. We're a dying breed._ - Larry David

* * *

_MIC Press Release_

_16th May, 2004_

**Mystery Party**

Malfoy International Corporation (MIC) will be hosting its next Mystery Party on May 1st. Selected journalists will be invited to cover the exclusive event. Stay tuned for more information.

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_17th May, 2004_

**Put Your Party Shoes on!**

We are super excited to get our press passes for the upcoming Mystery Party! The super sexy Draco Malfoy has announced yet another Mystery Party to be held at his family estate in a fortnight's time.

Only the creme de la creme of high society are invited to MIC's Mystery Parties, which are often fabulous surprise launch events for the company's business ventures. In the last Mystery Party, Mr Malfoy unveiled the mPhone, a business device that has gained considerable traction among wizarding corporations both big and small. We wonder what could possibly be on the cards this time?

* * *

Draco was serenely enjoying his morning coffee when he caught the ominous low rumble of unrefined footsteps inching ever closer to his office. He sighed and lowered the porcelain cup with a sense of resigned doom.

Predictably, it was Hermione Granger's face that the doors unveiled.

"FIFTEEN DAYS?" she thundered, shaking a copy of _Witch Weekly_ in his face. "Are you insane, Malfoy? I can't finish a collection in two weeks! Each piece of garment takes hours to make by hand!"

Having weathered the worse of the verbal storm, he picked up his coffee again. "I presume you have a wand, Granger?"

She gaped at him like a Plimpy out of water. "What?! I can't use magic, are you crazy?"

He rolled his eyes. "Welcome back to the wizarding realm, Granger. You make your tea with magic, so why the qualm about using magic in design?"

"I so do _not_ make my tea with magic," she shot back childishly. "And yes, I have a qualm. A fairly big one. Fashion is my _art_."

Draco sighed and refilled his coffee with a flick of his wand as Granger watched, and he arched an eyebrow as if making a point. "Art. How predictably melodramatic. Get over it, Granger. Even the most established robe makers use magic. And besides, it wouldn't be _wizarding_ fashion otherwise."

"It's couture," argued Granger. "It's meant to be hand made."

"Well, I'm asking you to be a bit unorthodox, can you do that?" he asked almost condescendingly.

"It's not about orthodoxy, Malfoy!"

Exasperation set in and he slapped a firm hand on his desk. "Look, thread and needles are a means to an end. Sewing charms are a means to an end. The difference is the latter will finish the collection on time, the other won't. For this once, I will admit that you are the superior one in terms of logic, so _use_ your god-given gift and tell me 'You're right, Mr Malfoy, I will do as you bid because you are so clever, thank Merlin for your wisdom.'"

Granger crossed her arms on her chest and shook her head slowly. "You are insufferable."

"Perhaps," he conceded, and held up an all-knowing finger. "But that doesn't make me wrong."

Her lips twitched. He could tell she wanted to argue, but the legendary Hermione Granger no-nonsense, let's get down to business mindset took over. She abruptly pulled out a chair and sat down whilst pulling out a notepad. "Okay, let's get started on this."

"Finally. Hallelujah, as the Muggle saying goes."

She shot him a glare. "Shut. Up. How many looks do you want?"

Draco shrugged and sipped his coffee. "How am I supposed to know? You're the designer."

"Well, a standard pret-a-porter collection will have 30 - 20 day and 10 evening looks."

He nodded. "Reasonable."

"And it will be a fall/winter collection."

He snorted. "What the bloody hell is the difference?"

Ignoring him, she scribbled furiously on her notepad. "And what does this collection look like?"

"I'm starting to seriously doubt your intelligence, Granger. I hired you to think about all those things. Stop asking me questions and start giving me answers."

"I need something to work on, since it's technically your collection!" snapped Granger. "So, tell me, what's the Malfoy woman like?" She made a face as if it sounded too corny for her artsy ears.

"Sexy," he replied immediately. "Gorgeous. Likes having a good time."

All the while, Granger mumbled under her breath. "Missing keywords - smart, confident, kind..."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, spare me the talk, Saint G. I think we both know that high collars and baggy pants won't sell very well at all."

Giving him a withering look, she said, "Right, I will need a lot of fabric samples. So I'm thinking of silks, velvets, some softer chiffon in the evening looks..."

"And leather," he interjected. "_Lots_ of leather."

She blinked. "Sorry, Malfoy, I don't use leather."

He nearly jumped out of his seat in mortification. "WHAT? Leather is THE material for fashion! What will the boots and the bags and the skirts be made of?"

"Do you even _know_ how much suffering animals go through before they are skinned for their hide?"

He slapped a despairing hand to his forehead. "Oh Merlin, here we go again."

Granger gave him a high and mighty look down her nose. "Yes, we're going again because I'm telling you once and for all that I am not using leather in my collection. End of."

"Great, now I'm going to be a laughing stock."

"There's really good quality imitation leather out there nowadays. Try keep up with the advances of modern society, Malfoy."

"No!" he objected vehemently, thumping his fist on the desk. "No imitation _anything_. Everything that has the Malfoy stamp has to be authentic."

"Isn't this superficiality at its best," she lamented. "Listen, Malfoy. I'm not doing this if you insist on real leather. I won't compromise on this one."

Draco glared at her. He used the glare he reserved for situations where the only solution was outright intimidation, and it usually worked. But obviously not on Granger, who was staring right back at him quite comfortably. He let out a long breath through his nostrils.

"Crazy vegans," he muttered to himself.

"Stupid, backward wizards," she fired back.

"Shut up, Granger. And, fine. Fine. But if anyone finds out, it's on you," he said, pointing at her.

"Deal," she agreed with a curt nod.

"Now get out of my office and go work."

She stood up and grumbled, "Slave driver."

Draco grinned contemptuously and called out after her, "Thought that might turn you on, considering how much time you used to spend in the library."

"You're a sick bastard!" she informed him without looking at her.

He shrugged. "I've been called worse, so I'll just take it as a compliment."

Stopping at the door, Granger reminded him, "I need fabric samples, by the way."

He flipped open a file and said, "Ask Lindsay."

"I will not. As I said before..."

"Yes, yes, Marie doesn't work, Lindsay works too much, blah blah blah can you see this does not concern me?" he asked in a tone that told her exactly how tedious he thought she was.

Granger put her hands on her hips, and actually managed to look a tiny bit menacing. "TELL Marie to do that, or I will break you. Or are you too much of a pussy to actually tell your secretary what to do?"

He groaned, "Ugh, _fine_, I'll tell her. Just go, Granger, I can't handle looking at you for more than ten minutes at a time."

"The feeling's mutual, jackass," she replied with a smile that was anything but happy, and slammed the door shut behind her.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was rewritten on 21 October 2013 because I accidentally overrode the original one.


	6. Sushi

Chapter 6: Sushi

_I never eat sushi. I have trouble eating things that are merely unconscious._ — George Carlin.

* * *

_18 April, 2004 _

_13 days and 28 looks to go  
_

There was no way on earth or in hell that Hermione could finish everything on time.

Her production rate had been exactly one piece per day, and by _per day_ she meant 20 working hours. That left her exactly 3 hours and 2 minutes of shuteye because she could never fall asleep without running through the entire collection in her head in immaculate detail.

Her brain really sucked sometimes.

It was six in the morning and Hermione was about to start another grueling 20-hour session with only two food breaks in between. Gripping her cup of coffee, Hermione stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and stared silently at the dark and sullen skyscrapers, their glass walls occasionally bursting with light when the clouds uncovered the rising sun.

A warm ray of sunlight dawned upon her, warming her skin, and she smiled to herself.

Time for work.

* * *

_19th April, 2004_

_12 days and 26 looks to go _

Hermione stared down blankly at the charcoal grey fleece in her hands and realised with a sinking feeling that she had no idea what to do with it.

She sat silently on the stool, trying to conjure up some sort of idea in her head.

Nothing.

She looked up and stared at her finished pieces. A black trench coat, a midnight blue structured cloak, an ensemble of a billowy white shirt over wide-legged trousers and a woolen white dress.

What next?

She sighed and looked wistfully at the naked mannequins.

Hermione Granger had the dreaded designer's block.

* * *

"Draaaaco," cooed a voice that literally dripped honey.

"Not now, Marie," snapped Draco, too busy signing documents to look up.

He heard her huff indignantly. "But you promised to take me to _Fabricio_ tonight!" she wailed.

He slammed his quill down, effectively breaking it into half, then glared into his scantily dressed secretary's wide blue eyes. Marie had apparently never experienced his wrath before.

"I _said_ not now," he said slowly, struggling to keep his anger under control.

"But-"

"Out of my office," barked Draco frostily.

"But-"

"You're fired," he cut her off harshly.

Marie shrieked in horror. "I'm _what_?"

"Fired!" yelled Draco, the ropes tying his rage down snapping. "Get out. I never want to see you again."

He hardly heard Marie collapsing in pathetic sobs nor the furious slam of the door. His hands practically shook as he picked up a new quill and stared down so hard at his paperwork that his eyes felt as if they would fall out.

Draco couldn't believe the horrible day he had just gone through. He had lost the single piece of land with the most business potential in all wizarding London to Valer Limited. _Valer bloody Limited_. The stupid, tiny firm that owned no more than forty million galleons worth of property, literally snatched the prize from Malfoy International Corporation, a multi_billion-_galleon company. He would've turned that piece of land into the biggest shopping centre in London, but now it was bound to become a bloody three-star travel lodge, like all other Valer Limited ventures.

Damn. That should give the newspapers something to write about.

Draco fired the stupid executive on the spot, and the rest of his useless team. He didn't tolerate losers. Like Marie.

A knock on his door triggered a volcanic reaction from him. "_WHAT_?"

He groaned when Granger let herself in. "Just leave me alone for one bloody night, won't you?"

She fixed him with a glare. "No, I will not."

"What if I paid you ten thousand galleons?" he asked, desperate to get rid of the horrendous Gryffindor who had now perched rather uncomfortably on one of the rotatable armchairs in front of his desk.

"No," she answered stubbornly.

Draco took a deep breath and counted to ten. The frustration was tearing him up inside badly enough, he really did not need Granger there to fuel his temper.

"I'm blocked."

Her voice brought him back from his silent prayer to Merlin. "What?"

"I'm _blocked_," she repeated in a strained voice.

"So?" asked Draco bluntly.

"_I'm blocked_!"

"Yes, I heard you the first time round," he snapped, throwing down his quill. "And why should _I_ care, huh?"

"Don't flatter yourself Malfoy, you're the last person on earth I would willingly talk to, but given the unfortunate circumstances, I have no other choice because _you_ made me sign the stupid_ secrecy_ clause!" she all but yelled, slamming a fist on the desk.

"If you're so high and mighty, why don't you go talk to yourself!" asked Draco, his voice rising.

"Because I'm _blocked_!" shrieked Granger, looking positively murderous as she sprang from her chair and kicked his desk viciously. "I don't _want_ to work alone anymore. I've done so for the past four years and it's been killing me, _don't you understand_?"

Well, not exactly.

Draco stared at her. Her eyes were wide and stormy, brimmed with haunting dark circles which were evident on her pale face. Even her hair seemed tired, falling on her shoulders in limp strands instead of forking everywhere it pleased. In short, she looked frightening. But, of course, Draco knew better than to tell an enraged female such a fact.

"You look tired," he cautiously remarked instead. In fact, a W.A.S.T.E.D. membership never sounded more appealing at that moment.

As if realising the enormous fuss she made, Granger looked away and buried her face in her hands, muttering something under her breath Draco didn't quite catch.

"What?" he asked, softly in case she flew off the handle again.

"I'm hungry," she spoke up, running a hand through her hair, looking as embarrassed as her pride would let her.

Draco looked up at the clock which read twenty-five minutes past eight.

"Well, what do you suggest?" he asked mildly, stacking his papers into a neat pile.

"Let's order sushi."

"Let's order _what_?"

"_Sushi._"

Draco made a face and commented, "That sounds ominous."

Hermione actually smiled.

* * *

Malfoy watched disgustedly as Granger squeezed a slimy green substance out of its package.

"What's that?" he asked, hardly containing his disdain.

"Wasabi," answered Granger cheerfully. Her mood seemed to have improved tenfold since the delivery owl swept in a few minutes ago with their order in a basket. She then proceeded to squeeze a brownish liquid out of a tiny bottle shaped like a fish. "And this is soy sauce."

"Ugh," was the best answer Draco could come up with.

"It's not as bad as it looks, Malfoy," said Granger with a smirk.

Eyeing the green and brown mixture with a frown, Draco gingerly picked the dish up and took a sniff. It wasn't exactly appetising, with the clashing colours and all. He wasn't an adventurous eater to say the least, and just looking at this wasabi-soy-sauce mix unsettled his stomach, but he wouldn't let Granger have the satisfaction of knowing that. So he gritted his teeth, brought the dish to his lips and tilted his head back-

"Malfoy!" Granger shouted with a note of panic. "What in Merlin's name are you _doing_?"

Draco glared at her. "Trying your beloved sushi, that's what!"

"Malfoy, that's not sushi," she said slowly, as if talking to a six-year-old, while stifling a smile. "_This_ is."

She produced a clear plastic box in a flourish and Draco looked down at the little rectangular rice blocks, all topped with peculiar-looking ingredients. He blinked.

"That's... weird," he decided.

"You dip the sushi into the sauce," explained Granger, pushing a plate into his hands.

"Okay."

She gave him two wooden sticks and said, "Help yourself."

Draco put down the sticks on the coffee table in the middle of her living room and reached out to do exactly that when Granger poked his hands with her sticks.

"Ow! What was that for?" he scowled.

"Malfoy, you're supposed to use your chopsticks," she chided, wielding her sticks.

"Chop_what_?" he seemed to have asked a lot of these questions that evening.

"Chop_sticks_," repeated Granger with exaggerated patience. "These," she held the two sticks in a particular position and made them move like scissors.

"Why can't we use a fork like normal people?" asked Draco, awkwardly holding one of the chopsticks in each hand.

"Because we're eating Japanese food."

"Gee thanks, I never noticed," he drawled sarcastically. "Can't we just use hands?"

Granger smirked. "Too challenging for you, Malfoy?"

"No," he returned quickly. A bit _too_ quickly.

Granger smiled triumphantly while Draco sighed in frustration. It was going to be one long night.

* * *

"It's _raw_?"

Hermione sighed. Malfoy looked ready to throw the whole sushi platter out the window.

"Yes, the fish is raw," she replied calmly.

Malfoy looked so revolted it was almost comical. His thin, blond eyebrows knitted tightly together and his lips were curled up in disdain and the rest of his pale face was scuncheed up as if he was in great pain.

"Are you sure you're not supposed to put it in the oven first?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione gave him a syrupy smile. "Malfoy, are you scared?"

"No," he answered, yet again way too quickly to be credible.

"It's just strange. Cultural shock. That's all," he added coolly. "Why don't you try it first?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're worse than Harry, really."

Malfoy arced an elegant eyebrow at that and said with sarcastic enthusiasm, "Wow, did Hermione Granger just compare me wonder-Potty-boy?"

"Oh, come off it, Malfoy," she snorted. "I swear you won't get poisoned. Try the salmon first if sea urchin is too much for you to handle." She expertly picked up the said sushi and placed it squarely on his plate.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and thrust the dish back to her. "If you're so sure it's not posioned, why won't you eat it first?"

"Malfoy, I'm a vegan."

"Yeah, that seems like your answer to every question," he scorned, unconvinced.

"I'm not supposed to eat fish,," she said.

"How convenient of you," smirked Malfoy.

Hermione felt like hitting him on the head with something heavy. "Trust me, Malfoy, I used to eat sushi all the time before I became a vegan. Come on, do I have to spoonfeed you?"

She watched his lips slowly curl into a wolfish smile. Uh oh.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," he said lightly, a naughty gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, how old are you?" she snapped.

"Feed me, Granger," he demanded with an infuriating smirk.

Hermione crossed her arms protectively. "Are you insane? No!"

"Scared, Granger?" he mimicked her tone with an evil sneer. "I swear I don't bite."

Her fingers itched to slap that arrogant face of his. How dared he toy with her!

"I'm waiting, Granger," he drawled.

Her eyes alighted on the wasabi, and she smiled sweetly. "Fine."

She hoped Malfoy didn't hear the malovelence in her voice.

Judging from the self-important grin plastered on his face as he leant back triumphantly on the white sofa, he had not noticed. So Hermione picked up her chopsticks, secured the salmon sushi, and dragged it around the wasabi dish a few times till the orange salmon was completely coated in green.

That should teach him a lesson.

"Here you go," she said cheerfully. "Open up!"

Hermione stuffed the whole sushi into Malfoy's mouth and sat back to watch the show. He chewed warily at first, his eyes on the sushi platter as he savoured his first taste of sushi. Then it happened.

Hermione had leant forward in her seat without her noticing, and she watched up close as the wasabi hit his nose.

"What the-" Malfoy trailed off as squeezed his eyes shut. "Damnit why the hell is it so- so-"

"Malfoy, has anyone ever taught you not to talk with your mouth full?" tutted Hermione, grinning widely.

"You did this on purpose!" growled Malfoy, his eyes now watering as he struggled between spitting out the wasabi coated sushi and swallowing it.

"What did I do?" asked Hermione, faking innocence. "I just fed you, as you requested."

"It's the wasabi, isn't it?" he asked, glaring at her through red, watery eyes. "You- you- you witch!"

A tear made its way down his face and Hermione said evilly, "Well, you never told me how much wasabi you wanted."

With one deep breath, Malfoy bent forward in great effort while he swallowed and gasped, "You'll pay for it, Granger!"

"I just paid for it, actually," she replied smartly and helped herself to a cucumber roll. "The platter cost 5 galleons, but it's quite worth the money, don't you think?"

Malfoy ignored her and mumbled "_accio_ Perrier" while pulling a silk handkerchief from his suit, all the while muttering darkly under his breath.

"Malfoy, can't you take a joke?" asked Hermione with a roll of her eyes.

"NO!"

She shot him an annoyed look, then grabbed the handkerchief he was rubbing his face with. His eyes were still watering and the tip of his nose had gone pink. Hermione couldn't help but grin. It was a sight to behold.

"What's so funny?" he asked, not at all amused.

"Trust _you_ to have a sense of humour," she grinned, then edged forward in her seat and gently took his chin in her fingers. "And stop squirming, for Merlin's sake."

She tried to ignore his gaze on her as she moped his tears away from his smooth skin. It was so fine that she likened it to the forest green silk in her workroom she had yet to design for when her thumb ran over the side of his face. It was unnatural, almost inappropriate, for a man to have such skin. But then, inappropriate could've been his middle name.

"Like what you see?" His gravelly voice startled Hermione and she jerked away on reflex. She stuffed his handkerchief into his hands and was yet to give him an answer when Green Day's_ Boulevard of Broken Dreams_ blared out loudly from her jean pocket.

She hurriedly flipped open her red Nokia and said, "Hello?"

"Hermione!"

"Ginny!" she grinned. "I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier, I was really-"

"Busy," Ginny finished the sentence for her. "I know. When are you not?" Hermione could picture her making a face at that moment. "Where are you right now? The guys are being idiotic jerks and I need a hideout."

"I'm at my apartment," answered Hermione.

"Can I come over?"

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who was carefully folding his handkerchief into a neat square. "I'm sorry Ginny, but I'm having a meeting with Malfoy."

"_Malfoy_?"

"Yes."

"In your _apartment_?"

"Yes."

"After working hours, at _night_?"

"Um, yes."

"Does he have a thing for you?"

"Ginny! That's ridiculous-"

"Shouldn't you be out on a date instead of wasting time with that excuse of a man?"

"Considering the fact I'm single, no."

"_What_?" Ginny yelled so loudly that Hermione had to hold her phone a safe distance away from her ear. "Hasn't Victor called you yet?"

"Victor? Victor Krum? Why? He's in London?"

"Ha! I knew it! You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush. "_Ginny_-"

"Wait. Don't answer that. He called Ron yesterday and asked for your number. He's moving to London, haven't you heard?"

Hermione grinned. Victor was moving to London! "Why?"

"Quidditch. He joined a new club. I forgot the name but Ron says it's bound to become London's top club."

"That's fantastic!" she said happily.

"Yeah, well, I gotta go. The OC's on. Don't forget, dinner on Saturday night, okay?"

"Okay, see you, Ginny."

"Lover boy's in town, huh?" asked Malfoy sourly after she tucked her phone back into her pocket.

"Victor and I are just friends," said Hermione, popping an advocado roll into her mouth.

He snorted. "I'm sure."

"Why's that so hard to believe?" she asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. "We're friends, that's all."

Malfoy sipped his Perrier and said stonily, "Well, it's not that convincing when he sends you Belgium chocolates and two dozens roses every year on Valentine's Day."

"Merlin, you actually _believe_ the tabloids? They use the same article every year!"

"Come on, Granger," he scoffed, staring out of the window. "Everybody saw you squawking like an idiot with the She-weasel. The office wasn't that big."

Hermione stared at him. _Office_? When on earth had they worked in the same-

Then it hit her, and she shook her head with a humourless laugh. "Malfoy, that was light years ago. We were still working in the Order then!"

He had put on the nasty sneer again as he lashed out, "Yeah, but that didn't stop you two from acting like lovesick idiots, sending each other stupid owls across the Atlantic when there was a bloody _war_ going on outside! People were dying out there and what were you doing, huh? Counting your damned roses!"

"I didn't!" she shouted.

"Yes, you did!" he yelled back. "I _saw_ you." He stopped short, as if realising that he had told her something he didn't want her to know.

Hermione let the silence linger for a moment.

"You watched me?" she asked.

"Forget what I told you," he stood up abruptly, flinging his chopsticks down.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, got up on her feet too.

"What does it _look _like I'm doing?" snapped Malfoy, his expensive shoes clicking soundly on the marble floor.

"You can't leave yet!" she protested. "You have to finish the sushi!"

He yanked open the door and said coldly, "Trust me, Granger, I don't give a damn."

And slammed the door shut not very unlike a female suffering from PMS.

Hermione glared at the door, then turned back and lamented for the half-finished sushi platter.

She took out her phone and poked a few buttons.

"Ginny, do you want to come over?"

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

Sorry for the wait. It's not my best but considering the fact that I'm juggling summer job, getting ready for boarding school and lots of other stuff, I guess it's the best I can come up with. I don't have time to reply to all individual replies, but know that I read each and every one and they all made me smile! Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical mistakes, I really don't have time to go over the whole chapter- I have to go in ten minutes! I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to reading your comments )


	7. Models

Chapter 7: Models

Some girls get swept up in the lifestyle- clubbing and partying with celebrities. You can't live your life like that, though. It's fake. — Gemma Ward

* * *

_21 April, 2004 _

_10 days and 22 looks to go_

The best cures for the designer's block were, Hermione discovered, an all-girls movie-and-sushi night, a few days away from your psychotic boss, a dozen red roses sent to your apartment and a tea date with your highschool sweetheart.

Not that Victor Krum was really her highschool sweetheart. To be honest, Hermione wasn't really desperate for a relationship right now either, but it was nice to wake up with twelve perfect red roses on your pillow, and a card signed "With love, Victor". It made a girl all warm and fuzzy inside.

In fact, it put Hermione in such a fine mood that she managed to finish a record-shattering six looks in three days, including a crimson floor-length evening gown that she was definitely saving for herself after the show.

And, well, it had been more than just her rosy outlook that spurred her creative progress. Hermione charmed her sewing machine so it could do basic stitching on its own while she sketched the patterns. Then, she charmed her scissors so they could cut out the patterns when she worked on the draping of the other dresses. Multi-tasking had always been her forte, and now, she was more grateful for that than ever. It felt as if she had grown a few more hands with complimentary brains attached.

Okay, so she backtracked a tiny bit on her work ethos, but pragmatism was the byword of the day.

Hermione had just finished her small breakfast consisting of a small apple and a piece of peanut-buttered toast when the phone rang.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully into the mouthpiece.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," came Lindsay's voice. "Mr. Malfoy wants to meet you in Conference Room 1806 at eleven. It's on floor 18, first door on the right. You can't miss it."

"Okay, I'll be there, thanks Lindsay."

Chewing her lips a tad anxiously, Hermione grabbed her coffee and made her way to her workplace.

She sincerely hoped that Malfoy wasn't still angry about the wasabi incident.

* * *

Draco didn't particularly look forward to seeing Granger either.

He still didn't know what had gotten to him that night when he threw the pretty tantrum like a little girl. He had acted like he was bloody -ugh, he hated that word- _jealous_ of Krum, which OF COURSE wasn't true. Merlin, that must be the stupidest thought that ever crossed his highly intelligent mind. Period.

So he was going to erase that unpleasant snippet from his memory, as simple as that.

He looked up when someone knocked on the door, and as expected, Granger entered cautiously, dressed in a formal suit instead of the tshirt and jeans ensemble she had on that night. She glared at him from the door, across the expanse of heavy black carpet, and he glared right back. He figured it was some sort of reflex his nervous system had developed through the many years in Hogwarts.

"Granger, take a seat," he nodded coolly at the chair placed a few paces from him on his right.

She complied and said crisply, "Malfoy, I hope you'll keep this meeting short and precise. I still have plenty of work to do."

He snorted. "Granger, do you think I'd willingly stay in the same room with you if not for entirely professional reasons? Of course I'll keep the meeting short."

"Good," she shot him a glare.

"Good," he echoed, then got straight to the point. "We're seeing a handful of models today."

She gaped. "Models?"

"Yes, models," he drawled. "What do you think will model your clothes? House elfs?"

Granger scowled and he was certain she was about to launch a S.P.E.W. speech when a knock on the door cut her short.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He saw Granger perk up when the unfamiliar young woman shyly let herself in.

"Granger, meet my new secretary, Elanor," he said. "Elanor, this is Hermione Granger."

Elanor stopped before their desk and smiled brightly at Granger, gushing, "Oh, Miss Granger this is such an _honour_, I mean, you've been in all the newspapers and it's just so _cool_ that I'm actually talking to you. I mean, really, who would ever think that a smalltown girl like _me_ would actually be standing here and meeting the most famous witch in hist-"

Draco cleared his throat to cut her off. Who knew such a willowy girl standing at almost five ten, as thin as a piece of paper, could have the lung capacity to talk for hours non-stop? But then, she was a very willing learner and was more diligent than Marie ever was, albeit a tad absent-minded. "Elanor, what were you going to tell me?"

"Oh right, that," she giggled. "I'm sorry, I get a little distracted sometimes. I mean, it's only like, my third day at work and it's all so new to me-"

"Yes, of course," Granger smiled kindly at her. "I understand completely."

"Really?" squealed Elanor. "You do? Wow, that's just like, so cool-"

"Elanor," said Draco firmly.

"Ah yes," she stopped her babbling abruptly. "The models are waiting outside, Mr. Malfoy. Shall I send them in?"

Draco nodded. "According to the list, if you please."

"Certainly," she beamed. "Miss Granger, do you have your copy?"

Draco extracted an extra copy from his folder and slid it across the desk to Granger. "All done. Send the first one in, Elanor."

"Okay," she turned to go, but before closing the door she gave Granger a big grin, "Really a pleasure speaking to you, Miss Granger!"

"You too," answered Granger politely.

"She likes you," commented Draco lightly as his secretary closed the door behind her.

"She seems like a nice girl. She's very young though," said Granger, smoothing out her list. "Is she American?"

"Yes, I'm giving her a few months on internship," he answered. "Anyway, we're seeing thirty models today. Only fifteen will make the cut, each will wear two outfits at the show and one will be the campaign star. I'll be glad to hear your advice, but of course, the final decision is mine."

Granger rolled her eyes. "As stated in the last clause of the contract. But what about the secrecy clause? The models will know I'm involved when they see me."

"Well, models aren't always the brightest girls, but just in case they're clever enough to put two plus two together I've made them all sign contracts of secrecy," replied Draco. "Happy? Besides, why can't you be involved? You can be doing financial stuff, legal, accounting-"

"Yes, the boring stuff," concluded Granger, with an undertone of resignation. "That's what Hermione's Granger all about, I suppose?"

Draco smirked and said bluntly, "Well, yeah."

Instead of lashing back at him with retorts that usually revolved around ferrets and black hearts, Granger simply shrugged and wordlessly looked down at her list, letting her hair curtain her face. Draco blinked. Did Granger just back down from a fight? Okay, it wasn't a fight, not yet anyway, but Draco could've been sure that it would've turned out to be a full-blown face-off, like all other conversations, since neither wanted to back down first. Ever.

He quickly stared down at his list.

Merlin, why didn't Draco see earlier that they were both acting like bloody six-year-olds?

* * *

Because it didn't work. Civilized conversation, he meant. Not between them, anyway.

"I think she's a pleasant girl," he remarked, drawing a star next to the previous model's photo.

Draco glanced at Granger, who was bloody taking notes like it was a DADA class.

"I thought she was rather... flighty," she replied mildly. But he could see her teeth clench.

Draco snorted. "What you meant is she's a bloody giraffe with the brain size of a maggot. Damnit, Granger, what's _wrong_ with you today?"

"I don't think she's a giraffe," sniffed Granger disdainfully. "And there's nothing wrong with me today." He was horrified to see a shadow of a smile when she looked away.

Merlin. He had been with enough women to know what a smile like that meant.

"Bloody hell, Granger. Did you _get laid_?"

She looked shocked enough to fall off her chair, then gasped very indignantly, "_Draco Malfoy_!"

Draco smirked at the growing blush on her cheeks. "What? There's nothing wrong with sex."

"I didn't- didn't-"

"You can say it, Granger," said Draco with a deliberate grin. "I know you're a prude and all-"

"Stop calling me a prude! You horrid, ferret-faced-"

"- but really, there's nothing wrong with-"

"-how _dare_ you assume that I'm that kind of-"

"-a contraceptive charm-"

"Draco! _Mon dieu_! 'Ermione Granger!"

Hermione's eyes snapped to the door, and her jaw promptly hit the desk.

"_Salut_ Fleur. _Comment ça va_?" asked Draco with an exquisite accent, who had very smoothly turned from Granger to smile at his French friend.

"Ça va bien!" Fleur Delacour laughed and approached them, giving them sound kisses on both cheeks.

"I am _thrilled_ to see you two 'ere," she grinned as she pulled back, flipping her waterfall of golden hair over a bare, slim shoulder. "Eetz been forever! How are you two?"

"Better than ever," answered Malfoy for the both of them. "Thank you so much for your help back in the day. Your intelligence reports were a great help."

Fleur waved that off dismissively. "Draco, that was years ago. I prefer to not to think of the past now, eets all so long ago!" She laughed breezily and turned to Hermione. "'Ermione, are you working for Draco?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Malfoy beat her to it. "Yes, she is. Actually, she's working on my new fashion line right now."

Without thinking, Hermione's hand connected with the back of his head.

"Ow! What was _that_ for?" growled Malfoy.

"The _secrecy_ clause?" she hissed.

He glared at her. "Two days ago you were screaming like a banshee that you had a designer's block, why not let Fleur help you?"

Was that a kind gesture on Malfoy's part? "Um, thanks, Malfoy, but I'm not stuck anymore."

Malfoy shot her an annoyed frown. "Well, in that case, maybe Fleur can be the one you go crying to when you get hysterical next time?"

Hermione sucked in an angry breath. "I did _not_ cry! And I do _not_ get hysterical!"

"You're getting hysterical right now!"

"You're just mad over the wasabi incident, aren't you?"

"Merlin, Granger, I think I have other more _worthy _things to be made about!"

Fleur delicately cleared her throat, clearly amused by the war of words just exchanged between them. "'Ermione, did I just hear Draco say that you're designing 'is fashion line?"

"Yes, you did," she answered, forcing down the ridiculous urge to stamp on Malfoy's foot.

"Well, isn't that just lovely!" grinned Fleur, sounding very British all of a sudden.

"Actually, you can come up to my flat to see the collection," she offered with a smile. "I haven't shown it to anyone yet and I want some feedback."

"_Mais oui_, I'd _love_ to come."

"What about me?" spoke up Malfoy. "I'm your boss, shouldn't I have the exclusive right to see the line of clothes I'm paying for?"

Hermione and Fleur exchanged glances and a secretive smile that sighed, _Men_.

* * *

"What ees that 'eavenly scent?" asked Fleur after a deep breath as she stepped into the airy apartment, with Malfoy trailing behind.

"Flowers," smiled Hermione somewhat vaguely.

She tried to shield the enormous vase of roses that was sitting by the windows, but Fleur caught sight of them and her hands flew to her chest as she gasped, "_Mon dieu! Les roses sont _tres_ belles!_" Hermione guessed she was pretty overwhelmed by the bouquet, since she reverted to her mother tongue. "'Oo gave them to you, you lucky girl?"

Hermione wasn't even aware of the fact that her eyes glanced at Malfoy's direction till she saw his face, stony and expressionless.

Like she cared.

"Victor. Victor Krum," she answered.

Fleur squealed, her green eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "Victor! I knew it. I told 'im years back at the Triwizard Tournament that you are ze one for 'im! 'E owes me one!"

Hermione blushed. "Fleur, please! We're just friends."

"When," Malfoy broke his silence in a frosty voice, "are we going to see your damned clothes?"

"Draco! There's no need to be rude," chided Fleur, then took Hermione's hand. "Come, 'Ermione, I cannot wait any longer. I need to see ze clothes!"

Sending the Frenchwoman a grateful smile, Hermione brushed past Malfoy and led them to her workspace.

"You two are the only people apart from me who have been inside this room," said Hermione importantly as she rested her hand on the door handle. "The last time Ginny was here, I cast an invisible-cum-repellent charm-"

"What?" spluttered Malfoy. "The _She-Weasel's_ been here?"

Hermione glared at him. "Yes. That's none of your business and her name's Ginny for Merlin's sake and _not_ the degrading names you give her."

"Are you bloody crazy? What about the contract?"

"Who are you to talk about the contract? You told Fleur in the _face_ today that I'm the designer!"

"That's different," protested Malfoy, a nasty frown on his face. "We both agreed to tell her-"

She gaped at him. "_What_? When exactly did I agree to anything like that-"

"Can we just see ze collection, _s'il vous plait_?" asked Fleur almost timidly.

Hermione took a deep breath and said, "Of course."

She felt a tingle of nervousness when Fleur and Malfoy entered the room. It was like handing in an assignment back at Central St. Martins. You never knew if people hated it or loved it- and there were always both.

Malfoy looked around at the eight clothed mannequins and sneered, "That's all? My, aren't you productive."

This time it was Fleur who slapped the back of his head. "Draco! 'Ermione, I think you've done a fantastic job so far. But how many days do you 'ave till ze show?"

"Ten."

Fleur's eyes bulged in shock. "Ten? _Dix jours_? 'Ow in Merlin's name will you finish everything?"

Hermione fiddled with the seams on a half-completed dress. "Well, I've got everything down on paper."

"You really 'ave to hurry if you don't want to finish your clothes backstage," said Fleur seriously. "I can owl you a list of charms you might find 'elpful if you need it. It's from a designer friend who works in Paris. It would save you _plenty_ of time."

Hermione was about to say "yes" when Malfoy cut in, "I'm afraid she won't accept that, Fleur. She was quite determined to stick to needles and thread when I proposed that to her."

She. Wanted. To slap him.

"Actually," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "I think it would be fantastic if you could owl that to me, Fleur. It really is hard working twenty hours a day just to finish one coat." She pointedly glared at Malfoy, who rolled his eyes.

Fleur gasped. "_Twenty_ hours? You must be joking!"

"Yes, I work twenty hours a day. It is rather tiring, but it's the only way, isn't it?"

"Oh no, I will not allow you to work twenty hours a day," said Fleur, sauntering to her side and slung a friendly arm over her shoulder. "_C'est incroyable!_ I'll ask Victor to take you out tomorrow night. You need time to relax!"

"Fleur, I appreciate your concern but-"

Fleur tutted. "No buts, 'Ermione. I am quite determined about this. In fact, I will go with you to make sure you 'ave fun. Draco, you're going with us tomorrow night."

Malfoy looked as if he was strangled by some invisible force. "_What_?"

"Isn't that what Americans call 'double-dates'? I think eet is a marvellous idea," said Fleur happily. "I shall book two tables for tomorrow night. Where shall we go? _Tres Bon_? Or _Donatella_? I really cannot choose between those two, they are both _parfait_!"

"Fleur, we are not going on a double-date," said Malfoy calmly.

She laughed. "You English are _so_ conservative! You really should learn from us Parisians!" Then she grinned and said, "_Alors_, it's time for me to go. I will owl you two tomorrow. Don't forget to dress up! _À bientôt_!"

They listened as the sharp clicks of Fleur's heels petered out, then they glared at each other and said simultaneously,

"Damn you."

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

Some people asked when the romance will be kicking in. Well, all I'll say is very soon :)

In a lot of fics I read Fleur is the villain, but I happen to like her a lot, so she's a good person here. And oh, she has not married Bill Weasley as in the books. I hope I've got the French accent thing right, I'm not that good at imitating accents.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews, everyone! When I feel stuck, I read your reviews and they make me feel so much better about the story. I hope you'll like the following chapters!


	8. Date

Chapter 8: Date

Attraction is not a choice. — David DeAngelo

* * *

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" asked Blaise as he and Draco left the conference room.

"No," answered Draco curtly.

"Why? Got a hot date?" Blaise wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Draco gave him a dark look. "Shut up."

"I haven't seen you this gloomy about a date since the Pansy days at Hogwarts," remarked Blaise with a smirk. "Who's got your pretty head all wound up?"

"Shut _up_, Zabini."

He laughed and shrugged. "No problem, mate. I'll find my answers from the papers tomorrow morning."

Draco gave him a rude, single-fingered gesture and disappeared into his office, leaving Blaise grinning to himself.

* * *

_22 April, 2004_

_9 days and 18 looks to go_

Hermione was on a roll. The list of spells Fleur owled her the evening before proved to be her saving grace. With a flick of the wrist a dozen buttons were simultaneously sewn on the charcoal grey trench coat, a muttered charm sent the sewing machine working on even the most dangerous curves, while another spell finished off the seams on dress after dress.

In short, it was -no pun intended- _magical_.

Hermione was so excited about the fact that nearly half of the mannequins were clothed that she worked all night without even noticing that she had forgotten to sleep. She was putting the finishing touches to the plunging backline of a gorgeous silver gown when she heard the clock struck seven. Glancing out of the window, she was surprised to see the skyscrapers tinged in the pink of dawn instead of fading into the gloom of night.

Sweet Merlin, did she really get _that_ carried away?

That was when she realised that her fingers were numb and her arms heavy. Every joint from her shoulders to her knuckles ached and moaned. She stared dumbly at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The dark rings around her eyes and her limp hair bore the mark of an all-nighter.

Promptly, she fell off her chair and landed in a cushion of dark green velvet. Her eyes snapped close and she dreamt of green.

* * *

When Hermione opened her eyes, she felt something slightly scratchy against her cheek. Lifting her head groggily from what felt like a card, she reached up and rubbed her cheek. The contours of the paper were embossed into her face. Damn.

Sitting up with a groan, she stretched her arms up to work out all the knots in her muscles thanks to her sleeping on the floor. She didn't even remember falling asleep, she was _that_ tired.

Picking up the card, she stared at the words, trying to make sense out of them.

_Donatella. See you at 7.  
_

Donatella? Who on earth was Donatella?

At 7? What 7?

Blinking, she looked up at the wall clock which read eight minutes past six.

Wait.

Oh no.

Hermione sprang up to her feet so quickly that she banged her head right against the bench, sending her sprawling to the ground with wet eyes and a very painful spot in the centre of her skull. But she scrambled out of the room almost immediately, there was no time to lose. How could she have forgotten about the date? How could she have slept through the _entire_ afternoon?

Hermione grabbed a big fluffy towel from her room then shot into the bathroom.

She would have to be quick if she was to make it to _Donatella_ on time. Real quick.

* * *

"Granger!" called Draco for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "Answer the damned door, will you?"

He groaned and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. Fleur had sent him an owl at noon with a note that told him to escort Granger to _Donatella_, one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, at a quarter to seven. Draco glanced at his watch. It was already half past six.

Hopefully the traffic would be kind. Draco had arranged for a limo ride as the Italian restaurant's floo station was permanently infested by the paparazzi. Only famous people with a deathwish and perfectly unrecognisable people would travel there by floo.

"Granger!" barked Draco impatiently, followed by a series of pokes on the doorbell. "I know you're in there. I heard a door slam ten minutes ago. Open up or I'll come in!"

It wasn't an empty threat. As the owner of the Malfoy Luxury Apartments, he could enter each and every door he wished without as much of a charm-

The door was suddenly yanked open and a tense voice ground out very rapidly, "Press that doorbell one more time and I'll hex you into oblivion."

Draco's finger was still trained on the doorbell as he blinked at a practically steaming Hermione Granger. A wave of aroma hit his nose and her damp hair confirmed that she had just been in the shower. He barely registered her half-made-up face before she spun around and stalked into the depths of the corridor, leaving him staring at her back. She was wearing what looked like from the back a simple red dress which was slightly on the tight side, giving him a nice view of the curve of her waist.

If she wore more clothes like that, he might find her a bit more pleasant to talk to.

He must have said that out loud, because Granger whipped around and snapped, "Well I am truly sorry that your values are so twisted but most people enjoy my company because of my _personality_." She said "personality" as if it were four separate words, and disappeared into the room at the end of the corridor.

Draco shrugged and said loudly. "What can I say? I'm a Malfoy, of course I'm sick and twisted."

"Is that your new strategy?" demanded Granger, emerging with a brush in hand and ran it through her tangles of now dry hair. "Self-pity?"

"What? Does it piss you off?" smirked Draco, watching her struggle with her hair while throwing pairs of shoes over her shoulder from a cabinet by the door.

"You, in general, piss me off," she answered tonelessly, while inspecting a pair of spiky black heels.

"I'm flattered, really. You do know there's a thin line between hate and love, don't you?" he asked teasingly.

Granger stopped what she was doing to pin him with a glare. "In your case, there's the bloody Atlantic Ocean between the two."

Draco dramatically clutched his heart and said in a strangled voice, "Granger, you really wound me-"

"Oh my GOD Malfoy _will you shut up_?" she growled through gritted teeth and threw a shoe right in his shin, leaving a dusty mark on his pants.

Draco lamented the damage done to his pants. "Are you insane, Granger? It's Prada!"

"And that," she pointed at the shoe. "Is Manolo Blahnik."

"So? Just because it's a Manola Blanket-"

"It's _Manolo Blahnik_, you moron!" Granger said, exasperated.

"It's not my fault the guy has some weird Italian name-"

"He's _Spanish_, for Merlin's sake!"

"And why should I care?" asked Draco bluntly.

Granger blinked blankly.

Draco smiled silkily. "Is the great Hermione Granger tongue tied?"

She actually looked away and blushed.

Oh shit. Was he flirting with her?

He quickly resumed his mask of aloofness and said coolly, "You'd better get your Blankets on-"

"Blahnik," she corrected him again.

Draco shrugged carelessly. "Hurry up. We don't want to have lover boy waiting, do we?"

"Can't we just floo there?" asked Granger with a frown, then gasped as if she had discovered the lost city of Atlantis. "Oh no, of course not. What if the dust gets on your Prada trouser?"

Draco simply glared at her.

* * *

Hermione knew why they didn't floo there when the limo stopped on the doorstep of _Donatella_.

Hordes of photographers waited by the two sides of the porch, held back by an invisible wall while they snapped hundreds of photos per second of diners walking into the restaurant.

"Scared, Granger?" drawled Malfoy, obviously having noticing her staring at the camera lights going off non-stop.

"Why should I be?" she retorted.

He smirked. "Oh right, of course you're used to it. Potty's best friend and Krum's love interest. They love you, I'm sure."

She scowled at him. "It's a fine line between love and hate," she threw his words back into his face.

"No Atlantic Ocean this time?" he shot back.

Hermione was going to make a very intelligent retort when the limo stopped and the door opened with a click.

"Miss Granger, welcome to _Donatella_," said the man with a thick Italian accent, offering her his hand.

She smiled and took it, sliding out of the car as gracefully as she could, then was nearly blinded by the multitude of camera lights going off in front of her face.

"Hermione! Hermione! Is it true you're engaged to Viktor Krum?"

"Hermione! Did you and Harry get into a fight?"

"Hermione! Look this way!"

"Is Luna Lovegood still your best friend?"

"Which Quidditch team do you think would win the League this year?"

Suddenly, in her bewilderment, she felt an arm snake around her waist, and Malfoy's voice in her ear. "Just smile and follow me."

So she did.

She stole a glance at Malfoy and found him nodding to the photographers in terse acknowledgement, a stern frown on his brow, while expertly ignoring all the questions thrown his way. The shouts of the paparazzi faded into elegant music as they reached the tall glass doors of the restaurant, and Hermione breathed a sigh.

"You need practice, obviously," commented Malfoy, releasing her from his embrace.

Only then did she notice how warm his body was beside her just now, and she nervously fiddled with her hair while trying to recall what he had just said.

"'Ermione! Draco!" came Fleur's voice. Hermione looked up and smiled at the Frenchwoman, who was absolutely radiant in a slinky silver dress. "Come, we've been waiting _forever_."

Hermione smiled apologetically. "I'm really sorry Fleur-"

She cut her off with a laugh. "_Pas probleme_. Come Draco, our table ees over there." She waved her hand somewhere to her right, then turned to Hermione. "And Viktor dear ees waiting over there-" again, Fleur elegantly swept her hand vaguely to her left. "Enjoy yourselves! Come along, Draco."

"Wait Fleur- where-" Hermione trailed off when Fleur, dragging Malfoy behind her, wove gracefully around the small tables, occasionally tossing air kisses to people she knew.

Hermione was still straining her neck, looking for Viktor when a red rose made its way up to her nose. She grinned and caught it in her fingers, and her smile widened when Viktor appeared in front of her, his face mirroring hers.

"You are gorgeous tonight, Hermione," he said with only a hint of his native accent. The years in America had definitely grown on him. "As always," he added cheekily.

Hermione laughed. "Always the sweet talker, aren't you?"

"How could I not in such desirable company?" smiled Viktor, offering her his hand. "My lady?"

She smiled. Tonight, she really felt like one.

* * *

"Don't you theenk my dress ees breathtaking?" asked Fleur chattily, taking a sip of her red wine. "Eet's Versace. Eet cost a fortune but eet is worth every penny, don't you think?"

Draco absent-mindedly nodded and pushed the venison around his plate like he used to when he was a child. His eyes darted up without his permission to see Granger laughing at something the Krum boy had said. He quickly looked down at his half-eaten dish.

"Did you know zat Versace's designer ees called Donatella as well?" gushed on Fleur. "What a coincidence! She's magnificent. _Une femme fatale_. I met her a while ago in New York, and she ees simply _amazing_-"

Draco tuned out. Fleur _was_ a charming woman, beautiful, intelligent, a good friend, but sometimes she spoke too much. She seemed more Italian than French tonight, rambling on and on about practically anything that ever existed on earth. Unfortunately, Draco wasn't really in the mood tonight. He had no idea why, but something felt off.

"-eesn't she just _lovely_?"

Draco looked up to find Fleur looking expectantly at him.

"Well, I hardly know her," he replied half-heartedly.

Fleur looked aghast. "Draco, you went to Hogwarts with her for seven years, you worked together in ze Order, and now she's working for you. She's been under your nose for ze past _ten odd years_, how could you say you don't know her?"

Oh, _Granger_.

Draco looked at her nonchalantly from across the restaurant, she was now slowly sloshing her wine about in her glass, then brought it to her nose and took a deep breath before succumbing to laughter. Then Krum got up from his seat and very effectively blocked her from Draco's sight, that was when he realised he had been staring for longer than what was deemed appropriate and coolly withdrew his gaze.

"Just because you've known a person for a long time means you actually know her," said Draco.

Fleur gave a nod over her glass. "_C'est vrai_. But of course, eet's the same the other way round. I already feel like I'm best friends with 'Ermione."

"I'm afraid that is impossible," said Draco with a small smirk. "Granger and the She-Weasel are always screwing around."

"Draco!" squeaked Fleur, outraged. "Watch what comes out of your mouth!"

He sent her his most roguish grin. "What? Ladies love it when I talk dirty."

She chuckled and patted his hand. "Quite ze lady's man, aren't you? Who ees your latest prey?"

Draco looked at her with an exaggeratedly hopeful look, making her laugh. "Draco, you know I'm too old for you."

"No beautiful woman is too old for me," he answered smoothly.

"Draco, how does anyone work for you without falling for your charms?"

His eyes darted to Granger again. How indeed?

He said airily, "Well, I don't exercise my charms on anyone. You're one of the lucky ones. I'm very particular, you know. I'm a Malfoy after all."

"Spoiled," teased Fleur.

Draco agreed. "Rotten."

* * *

"I wonder why Malfoy keeps looking over at our table," said Viktor while finishing his slice of pizza.

Hermione looked up, and sure enough, Malfoy was glaring straight at her.

"Never mind him, his sole objective in life is making everybody's life miserable," she replied. Hoping to change the topic to more pleasant grounds, she asked. "Is the pizza good?"

"Yes. So he's still the nasty bully, hmm?"

"To a large extent, yes," replied Hermione vaguely.

Viktor twisted his lips in disdain. "How can you stand him, Hermione? I hate people who raise themselves so high above everyone else."

"Well, I guess he is above most people in terms of wealth," she said with a shrug.

"Why are you working for him when you can work anywhere you like?"

"I'm interested in the project he assigned me, that's all," said Hermione.

Viktor reached for her hand and stared deep into her eyes in concern. "Hermione, I think you should work elsewhere. We all know how ruthless Malfoy is. I mean, he _is_ a Malfoy. During the war he-"

"Viktor," she cut him off. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine working for Malfoy. I can handle him. I don't see him that often anyway. It's more like freelance work."

"Hermione, I can find you a job somewhere else. You're such a bright witch, the Ministry would love to have you back, I'm sure-"

"But I don't want to," she said rather bluntly.

He blinked at her. "You'd rather work for _Malfoy_?"

Hermione sighed. "Viktor, it's nothing personal, it's just business."

She felt her lips curl into a small smile. Who knew she'd be quoting Malfoy?

He seemed rather lost for words. "But Hermione, it's- it's _risky_."

If not for the sincerity in his eyes, she would have laughed. So she squeezed his hand assuringly and said, "Viktor, you take a risk every time you mount your broom. Why should it be any different with me?"

"Well, you're _Hermione Granger_."

She blinked. "So?"

"You're not that _kind_ of person," said Viktor as if it were as obvious as the fact that the earth was not flat.

Hermione scowled. "What do you mean I'm not that _kind_ of person?"

He had the grace to look slightly uneasy under her scrutiny. "Hermione, you know what I mean."

"I'm sorry, but I don't," she ground out, her voice hard. "Anyone can take a risk. _Ron_ took a chance and opened his own restaurant when he could've worked in the Ministry for a really good pay. Even _Neville_ took a risk and joined Green Peace to save the whales."

"But Hermione, I really think you should play it safe-"

"Play it _safe_?"

"I mean, do you honestly think you can-"

"What do you think I am, Viktor?" snapped Hermione, waving around the rose he gave her mockingly. "A delicate flower who cannot decide for herself?"

Viktor shook his head. "I don't mean to offend you, I just thought you'd be sensible enough to know who you're dealing with."

"Malfoy is nothing."

"He _is_ a threat-"

"Merlin, Viktor! Malfoy isn't doing anything to me or anyone. I love what I'm doing, I'm willing to live with the _risks_ as you call them, whatever that means. Don't look at me like that, Viktor. I'm sorry but I'm not a porcelain doll for you to protect. I placed my _life_ on the line when we fought Voldemort. Why should I worry about lousy _Malfoy_?"

Viktor looked pained. "Hermione, I just wanted-"

"But I don't expect you to understand," she continued bitterly. "You weren't there, you weren't anywhere_ near_, so don't you _dare_ lecture me on taking chances. Don't tell me I'm not that _kind_ of person. You haven't even taken a _real_ risk before. You don't even know what it feels like, when you're on the battlefield, when you could lose everything in a split second. That's a _risk_, Viktor."

She stood up and threw her napkin onto the table and said something she did not expect, "At least _Malfoy_ knows what it feels like."

* * *

"_Merde_!" Fleur didn't even wince when the swear word flew out of her mouth. "What did he say to her? Why is she leaving?"

Draco quickly looked up to see Granger storming towards the front door, looking positively furious. But not nearly as angry as she was the day Draco left her out in the rain.

He instinctively got onto his feet and went after her, meeting a highly distressed Krum halfway.

"Stay away from her," drawled Draco.

"_You_ stay away from her, Malfoy, or I'll-"

"I'm not the one she's walking out on, am I?" sneered Draco. Without as much as another glance in Krum's way, he took off after Granger.

She had either forgotten about the photographers outside or she simply didn't care. Judging by the way she stalked past the frenzied paparazzi as if they were nothing but shrubs on the sidewalks, he supposed the latter was the case.

Lengthening his strides, he came up behind her before she reached the stairs, where the photographers on the sides were fighting for the best place to capture Granger's tantrum on film.

Putting a hand on the small of her back, he matched her steps as they approached the limo which was waiting for them exactly where they had gotten off two hours ago. The photographers went crazy and Draco could hardly see as he opened the door for Granger. He slid in after her and slammed the door shut, effectively drowning out the raging media storm outside.

Draco ran a hand down his face somewhat wearily. Judging by the way the paparazzi behaved tonight, it looked like he would be gracing the covers of every magazine and the headlines of every newspaper for the days to come. And it was very likely that he would have to share the honour with Granger.

Stupid Zabini.

The chauffeur looked up at him in question and he answered, "Home, if you please."

* * *

"So, what did lover boy say to get your knickers in such a twist?"

Hermione unleashed a fierce glare from the corner of her eye at Malfoy, who was leaning against the wall of the elevator, arms crossed, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

She forced her eyes to watch the slowly jumping numbers on the LCD screen. "Why would you care?"

Malfoy shot her what could only be described as a dirty look. "Well, as a gentleman, I would have to take them off for you if they're that uncomfortable, right?"

Hermione blanched. Did Malfoy just make a pass at her?

He then snorted and rolled his eyes. "Relax, Granger. I was only joking."

"Since when did you acquire a sense of humour?" she asked, a furious heat creeping up her neck.

He shrugged as the elevator jerked to a halt and opened its doors with a flourish. Hermione darted out of the elevator, hoping Malfoy would not follow. She silently groaned when she heard his expensive shoes clicking against the marble floor behind her. What did she do to deserve this- this _attention_? She was tired. She was upset. All she needed was a cup of hot chocolate. Not a certain platinum blond sex-starved billionaire who enjoyed sexually harrassing defenseless, upset young women.

Okay, perhaps she was not complete defenseless. She did have her wand in a secret pocket. A Hair Loss Curse sounded like a good idea. Malfoy seemed to be in love enough with his hair to miss it. She peered at him and found him staring openly at her.

"What?" she snapped.

Malfoy scowled and said almost laboriously. "I asked, are you alright?"

Hermione flushed for some weird reason. "Oh, um, yes. I suppose so."

"You were so quiet on your way back I thought-" Malfoy broke off, and in a very uncharacteristic manner, scratched the back of his neck, as if figuring out what to say next. "Well, if you're okay, that's uh, good. Fine."

He suddenly stood up straight again, and Hermione just continued to stare up at him. It felt strange, to be simply looking at Malfoy. Just looking without fervently working her eye muscles in hopes of making his nose blow up by activating the atomic fields between them. Or trying to get the message "I HATE YOU MALFOY YOU NASTY FERRET" across by some mysterious eye code. Maybe she was too emotionally drained to conjure up that kind of white hot fury every time she laid eyes on him.

Malfoy seemed to have noticed too, since he just froze and did the same.

Then, somehow, it happened.

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

It happened too quickly for Hermione to realize what was happening at the moment. One second she was standing there, the other she was pushed back against the door with something warm and wet on her lips, the next she was staring into Malfoy's grey eyes. Again. But closer than she ever had before. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his body and the brush of his hair against her cheek.

Slowly, he drew back. Without another word, he turned and left.

Hermione blinked at the empty space in front of her.

Only one intelligible word came out of her word that night.

"Damn."

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

That's all I have to say about this chapter.

I saw the latest HP movie yesterday and it was MAGNIFICENT. I _adore_ it. Sadly, Draco only had one or two lines, but that didn't stop me from swooning when he got off the train in an immaculate black suit. _Siiiigh_. I won't spoil the movie for anyone who hasn't watched it yet, so watch it watch it watch it! I haven't gotten so excited about a movie since forever. Yes, it was that good. I'm going to watch it again sometime next week, yay!

A completely random note, but I adore Luna Lovegood in the movie. I don't even remember reading about her, but she totally stole the show! So go watch the movie!

And of course, review!

Oh, I'll be very busy in the following weeks, so as usual, I'll try my hardest to update asap. Thank you all for your support!

P.S. I think this is the longest chapter ever!


	9. Man & Woman

Chapter 9: Man & Woman

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. — Katharine Hepburn

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
23rd April 2004  
_  
_**WHAT IS GOING ON,  
DRACO & HERMIONE?**_

Yesterday night at _Donatella_, famous Italian restaurant and social hub for the rich and famous, the paparazzi caught DRACO MALFOY and rumoured employee HERMIONE GRANGER arriving in a limo, looking every inch the glamorous couple. However, the two baffled the photographers by sitting at two separate tables. The photogenic billionaire shared a table with former FWF (French Wizards Federation) agent, now model FLEUR DELACOUR, while HERMIONE and Quidditch heartthrob VIKTOR KRUM enjoyed an intimate dinner... _**  
**_

* * *

Draco stared at his reflection grimly as he fiddled with his tie.

Even the mirror seemed to sense his sullen mood and stayed silent, obediently mirroring his every move.

He glared at the purple mark that he attempted to hide with his hair. Draco loathed to think how he came by the unsightly bruise. Let's just say it involved a frustrated man, a forehead and a wall. End of story.

What. In. Merlin's. Underpants. Was. He. Thinking.

Draco gritted his teeth as the unsettling frustration in him stirred. He had a fleeting urge to strangle himself with his 1000 galleon silk tie.

What was the world coming to? A Malfoy becoming suicidal? Over one stupid _kiss_?

Draco snorted and turned from the mirror. This was ridiculous. There wasn't even any tongue action involved.

He. Needed. To. Stop. Thinking. About. It.

Especially when that "it" was nothing but a chaste, spur-of-the-moment peck on the lips with Hermione Granger.

Draco kicked the door viciously.

He needed some vodka.

* * *

_8 days and 16 looks to go_

Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly.

She had been working relentlessly since 4 am, when she finally gave up attempting to keep her eyes closed for more than five seconds. Every time she shut her eyes, the horrific scene of Malfoy k-kis- _she couldn't even get the word out_- so close to her snapped them right open. And the problem was it wasn't even as horrific as she would've liked, because then she would've been able to get it out of her mind.

Damn him.

So she got up and worked and worked and worked.

She was blissfully oblivious to everything that happened around her as she worked on the extremely detailed beading of the most extravagant gown in her collection. It was a bias-cut chiffon gown in a moody black, contoured with silver threads, which would boast an intricate map of crystals on the front when Hermione was finished with it.

She was magically sticking a tiny gem on the dress when her cell phone rang, sending her toppling over her chair and onto the thick carpet of fabrics on the floor, screaming.

Once she located the phone, she answered breathlessly, "Hello?"

"What IS going on between you and Malfoy?"

Hermione let her head fall back on the smooth satin. "Ginny, what on _earth_ are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Hermione. You two are _all_ over the newspapers," chided Ginny. "You two looked pretty cosy."

She sighed. "Ginny, we ate at two separate tables. How in Merlin's name were we supposed to be cosy?"

Ginny sounded rather hysterical. "He had his arms _around_ you! Wasn't that cosy enough? Or did he have to snog-"

Hermione winced. "Ginny. He was just walking me to the restaurant. I had dinner with Viktor."

"That!" She had a feeling that she had told Ginny something she didn't like. "Don't even _remind_ me. I've been yelling at Viktor for the past thirty minutes for making you mad enough to walk out on him. What did he say to make you so angry?"

"Ginny, can't we talk about something else?"

"How about no?"

"Please?" pleaded Hermione rather exhaustedly.

Ginny huffed. "Fine. How _did_ you resist jumping Draco Malfoy when he was looking so damned delectable in that suit?"

"GINNY!" Hermione fancied hearing two other outraged shouts other than her own.

"Blimey," snorted Ginny. "What _did_ I say? Ron, you're burning the pancakes, and Harry, mop up that coffee spill. Hermione, are you still there?"

"I can't believe you, Ginny."

"What? Malfoy may be the nastiest person I've ever had the misfortune to meet in my life, but that doesn't stop him from being sinfully handsome- HARRY! Did you just break the plate! I swear I'll kill you if-"

"Um, Ginny? Can I talk to you later?"

Hermione could picture Ginny beaming triumphantly into the phone. "What? In a hurry to take a good long look at Malfoy to prove that I'm right?"

"No," said Hermione darkly.

"Whatever. Just one last thing: _is_ there anything going on between you two?"

"For the last time, no!"

Hermione could not decide if that was a lie or not- there _was_ that little episode outside her apartment. Not that it meant anything to her. Needless to say, it was _nothing_ of importance. At all.

"Are you _sure_?" teased Ginny.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley-"

"Okay, okay, fine. But I'll be the first to know if anything-"

"Ginny!"

"_Fine_, bye!"

* * *

"Mr Malfoy?"

"Came to gloat in my face, Zabini?" drawled Draco, reaching for another contract waiting for his sacred signature of approval.

"Actually, that would have to wait," replied Blaise. "May I introduce to you Helen, the project manager of your big show."

Draco looked up and stared openly.

Oh yes, he liked what he saw.

She was quite a lovely creature- clear green eyes, reddish hair, milky skin- and she looked aloofly professional as she stared right back at him.

Hmmm. She should be a nice change from all those clingy models and socialites.

Blaise, undoubtedly noting the appreciative staring on Malfoy's part, interrupted. "Anyway, Helen wanted to show you some figures concerning the party. We're rather worried about the discrepancies-"

"I'm rather busy right now with a particular case," cut in Draco, looking straight at Helen. "Why don't you and I meet tonight to discuss the figures?"

"I'll be honoured," replied Helen rather fostily.

Draco smiled nonetheless. "Good, I'll send you a message when I'm ready tonight."

With a terse nod, Helen spun around to leave, but Draco said, "Do wait a second, Helen. I want you to meet Miss Granger, she's working on this party as well. Blaise, why don't you go upstairs and fetch her?"

He did not seem too thrilled to play the messenger boy. "Why don't you ask Linds to fetch her?"

"Because," answered Draco in a tight voice. "I'm giving her an afternoon break, starting this minute. Why don't you go along to inform her of this special arrangement as well?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you are impossible. Helen, if he harasses you, just hex him."

"I do love your sense of humour, Zabini," snorted Draco, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't worry, Mr Zabini, I'm sure Mr Malfoy will keep his hands to himself," said Helen solemnly. "Wouldn't you, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco thought he saw a flash of naughtiness as she glared at him. He gave her a wolfish grin. "Certainly, Ma'am. If that is what you want."

Blaise arched an eyebrow at that. "I won't count on it."

He shut the door and Draco smiled. "So, Helen, how long have you been working for me?"

"About a year," came the detached answer.

"Whoever hired you must have an eye for talent," he remarked, letting his eyes wander.

She pointedly crossed her arms. "I _did_ graduate from Beauxbatons with top honours."

"Ah, Beauxbatons. Do you know Fleur Delacour?"

Helen nodded. "Everyone does. She graduated quite a few years before me."

"Quite a beauty, eh?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Not particularly," shrugged Helen nonchalantly.

"I like that attitude-"

His sentence was cut off by a very sharp staccato on the door and before any words left his lips Granger barged in.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked bluntly, making no move to step any further into the room. She then spotted Helen and forced a smile. "Good afternoon." She then sent him a glare that informed that her afternoon was anything but.

Draco coolly stood up from his chair. "Yes, Granger, I want you to meet Helen, and Helen, this is Hermione Granger."

Helen stepped forward to shake Granger's hand. "Pleasure."

"Helen's in charge of the finances of the show, quite an accomplished woman she is," said Draco. "Graduated from Beauxbatons with top honours! Not unlike you, Granger."

"Impressive," muttered Granger, again looking anything but impressed.

Draco stepped close enough to mutter near her ear, "Feeling sarcastic today, aren't we?" Then brightened and addressed Helen. "Actually, Helen will be dining with me tonight to discuss some very important accounts. Where do you suggest, Helen?"

"The office?" she replied.

Draco chuckled. "What a sense of humour! What do you say to _Donatella_? I quite enjoyed the venison last night. In fact, I'm quite eager to try the cod Fleur ordered. It looked quite delicious."

"I assure you that won't be necessary, Mr Malfoy," said Helen flatly. "The office will be quite adequate for me."

"But not quite for me," he countered smoothly. "I'll send a car for you at seven. Don't worry about dressing up."

Helen nodded briefly. "I'll see myself out then, Mr Malfoy."

"See you later," smiled Draco as she gracefully exited. He reclined on his chair again and stretched his arms, working out the knots. "Quite a pleasant girl, isn't she?"

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" asked Granger through gritted teeth.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "My, aren't we presumptuous?"

"Showing off your latest date, Malfoy?" sneered Granger. "Well, I'm not impressed. Neither was she."

"So what if I am?" he challenged.

"That only goes to show how bloody immature you still are, that's what," snapped Granger. "If you're done tooting your horn, I still have sixteen more looks to work on and only eight days left. In short, I'll be slaving away upstairs while you do your oh-so important things like getting into Helen's pants."

Draco smirked. "What a dirty mind you have under that prudish surface, Granger. If I didn't know you I would have thought you're jealous."

Granger rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, Malfoy. I hate to break it to you, but not everyone swoons at your feet and worships the ground you walk on."

"Oh really?" Draco faked a surprised face. "Pray, tell me, who doesn't bend to the legendary Malfoy charm? With the exception of straight men?"

"Helen, for instance-"

Draco waved that aside. "She's just shy."

Granger snorted. "Well, how about _me_?"

"Are you sure?" asked Draco airily. He heard a warning bell go off in his head but he pushed on. "You sure didn't seem that steady after I kissed you last night."

He watched with a smug smirk as Granger's face went up in flames. Draco inspected his nails more calmly than he felt inside and said, "By the way, Granger, you know that it was a mistake, don't you?"

He didn't have to look up to feel Granger's eyes glare holes in his head. "Of course."

"Got a bit tipsy, that's all," he said lightly. "Well, I'm glad we got that cleaned up. Don't let me detain you. You're a very busy woman and I'm a very busy man-"

Hermione was seriously contemplating inflicting bodily harm on the slimy, insolent, disgusting, ferret-faced man looking so pleased with himself when the door behind her was violently thrown open. Her eyes widened when she recognised the girl.

"Marie?" gaped Malfoy. "What are you-"

"YOU!" screamed Marie, pointing a finger which was manicured to perfection at Malfoy. "YOU LEFT ME FOR _HER_?" Hermione instinctively stepped back when the finger was flung in her direction. "YOU TOOK HER TO _DONATELLA_! YOU PROMISED TO TAKE ME THERE!"

"Marie, why don't you calm down and-"

"NO I WILL NOT! I WILL BREAK YOUR NOSE WITH-"

Hermione didn't stay to hear the sentence out. She sprinted out of the office as the sound of shattering glass reached her ears. Screeching to a halt before Lindsay's vacant desk, she grabbed the phone and frantically scanned the list of phone numbers.

"Security, security, security," she mumbled, her hands shaking. "Ah ha!"

It took no more than two minutes for the security guards to burst out of the elevator not unlike those in Hollywood movies, and escorted a hysterical, kicking Marie from Malfoy's office.

"I LOOOOVE YOU DRAAACO!" she wailed, sobbing tearlessly as she struggled against the many pairs of hands on her arms. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MEEE?"

"Is Mr Malfoy all right?" Hermione asked a passing guard.

"A bit banged up, but should be okay," he answered.

"Thanks," smiled Hermione.

She gingerly stepped back into his office, wincing at the broken porcelain vases and bits of broken glass on the floor. Malfoy sat at his chair, nursing a bloody nose and a black eye. Other than a few cuts he seemed to be fine.

"Quite heroic of you, really, fleeing the scene as if a bull was chasing after you," sneered Malfoy as she made her way over to his side.

"Shut up, Malfoy," shot back Hermione. "I called the guards. Or you would've ended with two black eyes."

"As if it makes any difference," he grumbled.

"I see you're highly trained in self-defence," she said sarcastically.

Malfoy glared at her. "For your information, I am a gentleman. I do not hit women."

She sighed and leant against his desk right beside his chair. "Let me look at your nose."

"Yeah. Why don't you just break it off? It feels as if it's falling off anyway," he snapped testily.

Hermione frowned and glared at him. "I'm just trying to _help_."

"You want to help, don't you?" he glowered. "Here's one thing you can do- _stay away from me_."

She made a sound that sounded like groan and a stifled grunt of frustration. "Malfoy, unless you want a crooked nose for life, I have to fix it now."

Malfoy sneered, loosening his tie, his actions jerky with anger. "Isn't that a dream come true to you?"

"Merlin, Malfoy!" exploded Hermione, throwing her hands upwards. "Just shut up, will you?"

She proceeded to push his chair back to slide in between his knees and the desk. She then conjured up a box of cotton wool and a bottle of water, and batted his hands away from his nose, which was bleeding heavily onto his white shirt. With a healing charm, the bleeding ceased. She then performed a spell that had the bones in his nose shifting back to place, and Malfoy winced as they both listened to the crack of the bones.

"Now let's have you cleaned up," said Hermione with forced cheer once the ominous sounds stopped. "Hold still."

He yelped when she poured the ice cold water over his nose, and soaked his bloodied shirt. "Bloody hell, Granger!"

"Quit whining like a baby," she retorted, shaking her head. She held his chin between her thumb and index finger, while her other hand deftly cleaned up his face, running the soft cotton over his skin.

"You just did that to see my bare chest through my wet shirt," he said accusingly.

"I did not!" She looked down. The shirt clung snugly to his chest and she caught a glimpse of the well toned muscles through the almost transparent fabric.

"Ha! I _said_," cried Malfoy triumphantly.

"What?" Hermione blushed, furiously scrubbing the crusted blood off his cheeks.

"Ow! What's wrong with you, woman, that hurt!" complained Malfoy, pulling away.

"What a crybaby you are," snickered Hermione. "Stop fidgeting!"

Malfoy caught her wrists and said, "I can clean myself up, thanks."

"You may be able to, but you can't take care of the black eye."

"So concerned all of a sudden, Granger?" tittered Malfoy, staring at her steadily. "I've grown on you, huh?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but didn't move her hands. "Just because I hate you doesn't mean I will leave you bloodied and bruised."

He tut-tutted. "Always the superhero."

"If you don't want my help, fine," she snapped. She tried to pull her arms from his grasp but to no avail. "Let me go!"

"I didn't say I don't want your help," he said quietly.

It was that silence again. That quiet calm, as if there was a hole in time and they were caught in it. She looked into the grey of his eyes again, so close, like the night before. Why was life so unfair? A bastard like him shouldn't have the face of a god. Someone up there must have made a mistake. Ginny was right, he was an attractive man, though he didn't deserve it. There was no denying the sharp nose and the intelligent eyes demanded attention. And all that hair- so soft, brushing against her fingers now. Those lips, now moving, speaking, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. Merlin, she could hardly _breathe_. He was too close, trapping her between him and the desk-

"Malfoy!"

The spell was broken, and Hermione jerked on arms away and stumbled from the desk, her face flushed.

Malfoy didn't even cast a look at her. "Zabini-"

"What happened, man? I heard that an old flame broke in-"

"I'm leaving now," said Hermione rather awkwardly. "Um, you still need someone to fix your eye, Malfoy."

"Whoa, that woman can throw a punch, can't she?" joked Zabini, sending Hermione a wink. "Thanks, Hermione. Malfoy owes you one."

She shook her head and was about to dash out of the door when Malfoy called her name.

"Granger," he said solmenly. "Thank you."

She nodded, then turned around and walked away.

She was pretty certain Malfoy did not revisit _Donatella_ that night.

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

Ooooh can you feel the tension?

Thank you so much for the reviews! I got a staggering 47 reviews for the last chapter alone- which has never, ever happened to me before! A big hug to everyone who reviewed, you guys make me so happy! I love the appreciation you show to my characters and my plot!

It will be a busy week for me next week, so I can't guarantee an update as quick as this one. As I mentioned before, I will be heading to boarding school next month, and though I have a laptop, I doubt I will have time to write there. But no worries, I have loads of holidays I can make use of! Anyway, enjoy the chapters as they come :


	10. Bed

Chapter 10: Bed

_Be careful what you wear to bed at night, you never know who you'll meet in your dreams. — _Anonymous

* * *

_Thou shalt hate Hermione Granger with every fibre of thine soul, every ounce of thine strength and every minute of thine life._

That was Draco Malfoy's eleventh commandment, right after _Thou shalt never step out in public with a single hair out of place._

And really, Granger was making it far too easy for him.

He had arrived at the Zabinis' (strictly speaking, it was still Parkinson's and Zabini's, but they were practically married and well on their way to divorce, so never mind) at a quarter past seven, like all Friday nights, expecting a quiet dinner and an hour of pleasant lounging in front of the telly.

Unfortunately, Granger was somehow there when the door opened.

He had demanded a reason for Granger's existence under Zabini's roof and was told that it was a "token of thanks" to Granger for "patching him up" in the "incident" a few days ago, and that he was sure Draco had forgotten to "repay" her for her "kindness".

Unfortunately, Draco had indeed forgotten to "repay" her for her "kindness". Someone give the smart arse a badge.

He had, during dinner, given a very lengthy speech detailing how the fish was inadequately cooked in every existing dimension in order to mock Granger's culinary skills, although in truth it was quite delicious.

Unfortunately, he found out the hard way that it was Pansy who cooked the fish.

He had then very discreetly catapulted a pea from his fork, and it was right on course to land on Granger's forehead.

Unfortunately, a very timely move on Granger's part deflected the pea and it ended up in his right nostril.

He had been laughed at, and Draco did not enjoy being laughed at.

Unfortunately, he was humiliated further having been shunned from the conversation which revolved around a certain Muggle TV show called The Oh-I-See. Or something like that.

He had then sulked like a man scorned and shut up.

And oh, then Zabini and Parkinson had to announce their engagement at dessert.

Draco stared at Zabini. "Do you have any idea how bloody annoying marriage is? It's a commercial fraud that inflicts permanent psychological damage on anyone involved."

"How insightful of you, Malfoy," commented Granger with a roll of her eyes. "If you had the brains to think deeper, marriage is much more than just a wedding. Speaking of which, if you need someone to design a wedding dress for you, Pansy, I'd love to-"

Without thinking, Draco leapt out of his chair and practically clambered over the coffee table nestled in the small space between them to clap a hand to Granger's mouth, knocking over a few glasses of wine and a plateful of cheesecake onto the expensive carpet.

"Draco!" shrieked Pansy, eyes wide. "What are you_ doing_?"

He snatched his hand back when he felt Granger sink her teeth into his palm, and he yelled, "Ugh! Are you _mad_? Now I'm going to get rabies!"

"I'm not an infected dog, you moron!" screeched Granger furiously.

"You're a _beaver_!" taunted Draco, and he smirked as he watched her face go up in flames.

"Well I wouldn't worry if I were you, I'm sure the antibodies in your _ferret_ blood will keep you safe!"

Draco fell back as Pansy pulled him from Granger and deposited him on the carpet. "Draco! I'm _appalled_ by your manners. Hermione was going to tell me something when you very rudely inter-"

"She wasn't going to _tell_ you anything!" he snapped, commanding Granger with his eyes to shut up.

She glared back. "Actually, I _was_ going to tell Pansy something-"

"No, you were _not_ and will _not_-"

"Do you even _know_ what I'm about to tell her?" said Granger, faking innocence.

"Contract!" hissed Draco.

"You didn't seem to have a problem telling Fleur," pointed out Granger.

Pansy perked up, her brow scrunching up in a frown. "Fleur? Fleur Delacour? What did you tell Delacour? Why can't you tell me?" she demanded in rapid fire.

Pansy never took a liking to Fleur. The Frenchwoman was too beautiful for her taste, apparently.

"I don't understand why Malfoy wants to keep this secret to you both, Pansy," said Granger patriotically, sending him an evil look over her wine glass. "You three _are_ very close, aren't you?"

Pansy looked pained and Blaise blinked in amusement.

Draco considered strangling her there and then. Who knew Granger could be such a Slytherin?

"Draco, what are you keeping from us?" Pansy brandished the infamous pout she used to shove in his face when he refused to take her out to Hogsmeade in Fourth Year.

"Hmm, let me guess," Blaise spoke up, pretending to think really hard. "You really kissed Nott back in Fifth Year?"

Draco nearly gagged. "For Merlin's sake, NO-"

Then Granger had to go and tell them what exactly she was doing for him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't sue her for breach of contract or he would be "brutally dismembered like that tiger which took the Muggle apart limb by limb at that African wildlife park last month" by the last surviving member of the Parkinson bloodline.

Yes, Granger was making it way too easy for him.

* * *

"That's gorgeous!" squealed Pansy, admiring the sketch Hermione was scribbling on the back of a receipt. "Gosh I can't wait to get married!"

Hermione laughed and shifted to cross her legs. "When's the big day?"

"Well, Blaise wants a winter wedding, so we'd probably wait till December," gushed Pansy, practically oozing with happiness. "A Christmas wedding, maybe!"

"Fantastic! That way I'll have time to work on your wedding dress."

"So how's work?" asked Pansy, popping a chocolate into her mouth.

"I still have twelve pieces to go, and a week left till the show-"

"No," cut in Pansy. "I mean, are you enjoying your work?"

Hermione smiled at her bluntness. "Well, it gets lonely sometimes. I can't tell anyone about it. I signed a contract."

"No wonder Draco jumped you," said Pansy thoughtfully. "Literally." She added with a wink.

Hermione laughed. "You're funny."

She grinned back. "Even Slytherins have a knack for laughs. I'm kind of thirsty, do you want a hot chocolate? I have marshmallow downstairs."

"I'd love to- wait, it's _two_ in the morning?"

That should explain her heavy eyelids.

Pansy blinked. "Oops, looks like we got carried away with my wedding plans!"

"I'm really sorry," apologised Hermione. "But I really need to get going-"

"Oh no you don't," said Pansy, grabbing her arms. "The floo stations are closed and I'm not letting you walk back to your apartment."

"Well there's Malfoy-"

"No, you two are staying for the night," insisted Pansy, making a beeline to her wardrobe. "Here, I'll lend you a nightgown. The guest room is the first door on the right, you can't miss it. I'll go down and get Blaise. He's probably camping out on the couch." She made a face and dashed out of the room before Hermione could open her mouth.

So she made her way to the guest room, and was unpleasantly surprised to see Malfoy already on the bed, reading a book.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" snapped Hermione, closing the door behind her.

"Good morning, Granger," he chirped sarcastically.

"Pansy said I can sleep here," she said, crossing her arms.

"Zabini said I can sleep here," he shot back, leisurely turning a page.

"Well, we can't _both_ sleep here," she declared.

Malfoy looked at the empty space next to him on the king size bed and arced an eyebrow, "Why not?"

Hermione gaped. "Are you suggesting we sleep _together_? In the same bed?"

"It's called a _compromise_, I believe," he replied lazily.

"But I can't!"

"Suit yourself," shrugged Malfoy. "There's always the floor."

Hermione huffed. "What a _gentleman_ you are, Malfoy."

"Flattered," he deadpanned and put his book aside. "Climb in when you're done singing my praises."

Hermione gasped and spun around when he very fluidly pulled the sweatshirt he was wearing over his head.

"Malfoy!" she ground out. She heard him snicker and the sound of sheets sliding on skin.

The lights went off and Malfoy sing-songed, "Good night, Granger."

"You're disgusting, Malfoy!" she snarled and slammed the door close behind her.

* * *

Draco was about to fall asleep when the door clicked open.

He heard Granger groan and nearly smirked. He had, of course, lied in the middle of the bed like he owned it.

The smell of apple shampoo hit his nose and soft hair brushed his shoulder as Granger leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Malfoy, are you awake?"

Draco decided to have a bit of fun. After all, she did ruin his Friday night.

With a loud moan, he rolled over and right onto the solid form of Granger, who shrieked and kicked him off none too gently. He retreated with a grunt, resting on his side, and felt her scramble from the bed. He grinned into the dark and stayed on his side of the bed quietly, till he felt her weight sink into the mattress on his right.

He could picture her lying on the edge of the bed, as far from him as she could manage without falling off the bed. Wouldn't be too comfortable, he imagined.

Letting out a long sigh, he rolled back onto his back and let his hand fall onto what felt like Granger's stomach. She picked up his hand with a muttered oath and flung it back onto his stomach. Amused, he flung it right back and Granger viciously slammed it onto the bed.

Draco let a few quiet moments pass, then, with an expert tug, stripped Granger of all blanket cover.

He grinned into the dark when Granger sighed and attempted to pull the sheet back, but Draco had it cocooned tightly enough around him. He let her struggle for a minute or two before yielding to her pulls, unwinding the sheets from his torso as he ended up pressed against her stiffened back.

"All you had to do was ask," he rasped into her ear.

He didn't expect her to elbow him hard in the stomach before scrambling from the bed.

"Ow! Are you trying to kill me, Granger?" he cried dramatically, barely making out her form in the dark.

"If you try to _touch_ me one more time-" her voice trembled in anger.

"Hey, do you think I touched you deliberately?" Draco shot back.

"I don't _care_ if it's deliberate or not-" she snapped.

Draco faked a female voice and cooed, "As long as you _tooouch_ me- oof!" He was rudely cut off by a pillow in his face. "What the fu- auuugh! Merlin, you're ma-"

"_You- are- in-su-ffer-able_!"

Draco grabbed the pillow and ripped it from Granger's grip, and threw it out of her reach. He then grappled blindly into the dark and somehow found Granger's arms, and with a tug he hauled her onto the bed- onto him, more specifically.

His eyes had now adjusted to the dark and he could see Granger's eyes, wide and dark, boring into his as she panted, her breaths hitting his face in warm puffs. He thought he felt her heartbeat through the thin fabric of her silken nightgown. She was sprawled all over him and, to be entirely honest, it didn't feel that bad at all.

His grip on her wrists tightened.

_Thou shalt hate Hermione Granger with every fibre-_

"Geez, Malfoy, unhand me."

Desperation seized him and he hastily pushed her off him. A bit too hard, perhaps, because she tumbled off the bed with a shriek.

"Malfoy!"

Draco, now in control of his brain again, peered over the edge of the bed and said sweetly, "Yes, Granger?"

She practically shoved a finger in his face. "If you do not keep to your side of the bed-"

"You won't be held responsible for ravishing me?" he finished for her rather wickedly.

Draco grinned as he literally heard her counting to ten in her head.

"That's _it_! I'm going," she announced, getting onto her feet. "Congratulations! You can have the bed _all_ to yourself, you perverted ferret. And I'll have the blanket."

"Whoa, where are you going with my blanket?" asked Draco, clinging to the sheet like a koala.

"Downstairs! Anywhere but here!"

"Oh no, you're not. Come back to bed, Granger!"

Granger whipped around to glare at him. He fancied seeing Granger's eyes glow red. "Are you high on something, Malfoy?"

"I'm serious, come back to bed, Pansy will have my head if she knows."

"Well, that would be fabulous, really. That body wouldn't look half-bad if it didn't have your ferret head attached."

"Did you just say that you like my body, Granger?" Draco smirked.

He could feel the heat radiating from her face. "_No_."

"If you come snuggle up beside me you can have it for the night," he teased mercilessly.

"On second thought, I might just pull your head myself-"

Draco yawned suddenly, deciding that he had had enough nonsense for the night. "Granger, it's almost three and I really need some shuteye. You can continue to indulge in your murderous fantasies all you like but I won't let the blanket go. Good night."

He felt Granger climb onto the bed a few minutes later, and he drowsily smirked.

The ladies could never resist him.

With half a mind to annoy her, Draco casually tossed his arm to her side but met something electric half way, making him cry out in shock.

"_What the hell_-"

"Sweet dreams, Malfoy," lilted Granger smugly, and with one smooth move tore the sheets completely off him and to her side of the invisible electric fence.

Oh yes, Granger was making it too easy for him.

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

Yes, it's been forever and I apologize for the delay! Needless to say, I've been incredibly busy with life and this is the best I can come up with at the moment. It's not my favourite chapter, it is some sort of a transitional chapter but I promise it will get better soon. Thank you for all the amazing reviews, you guys are so generous with your compliments! I can't believe I got 61 reviews for one single chapter! This chapter is dedicated to all you lovely readers, thank you for your encouragement, it means a lot to me.

I will be going to camp next week, so it might be a while before I update again. But yes, it will get better! See you!


	11. Smile

Chapter 11: Smile

_The shortest distance between two people is a smile_ – Anonymous

* * *

Hermione Granger woke up the next morning and decided that she would murder a certain Draco Malfoy very, very soon, and very, very brutally. She would skin him and tear him apart limb by limb until he begs for mercy, then she would-

Only when juice from the badly disfigured remains of the orange in her hand squirted into her face did she snapped out of the uncharacteristically gruesome images flashing in front of her heavily hooded eyes. She angrily cleaned up the mess and downed her boiling hot coffee in one go.

She hardly got one wink of sleep at all, kudos to the disgusting man who would not stop writhing and groaning a mere arm's length away from her, effectively keeping her awake, flushed and bothered, all night long. Hermione had been sorely tempted to just beat some sense into him, but knowing that he was deliberately provoking her, she decided not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting on her nerves, and that she would be affected enough to behave in anything but a civilised and mature manner.

And so she pretended to be perfectly unperturbed by his vulgar deeds, then leapt out of bed as soon as the clock downstairs chimed seven.

So here she was, in the Zabinis' kitchen, pouring a second mug of coffee down her throat, her sleep deprived brain running on pure anger, plotting Malfoy's demise.

"Good morning, Granger."

The mug in Hermione's hand crumpled like a disposable plastic cup. It was obviously charmed to resist clenching fists.

Draco Malfoy was meticulously groomed as always, his white blond hair slicked back, his shirt starched, his shoes polished. She silently cursed her hair, which had predictably gone completely out of control. It was not fair that horrid man should have perfect hair without having to lift a finger when she put fifty charms in her hair daily just to keep it from smothering her to death.

Bastard.

"Did you have a good sleep last night?" he asked smugly, pouring himself a cup of coffee without looking at her. "The bed is awfully comfortable, won't you say?"

"Yes," she bit out, stiffly shoving the still crumpled mug into the sink.

Malfoy dragged a chair out and leisurely sat down, leaning back to prop his legs on the table, taking a sip of his coffee and sighed languidly. "_Delicious_," he said with a meaningful glance in her way.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I hope I didn't disturb your beauty sleep last night," he continued airily, brushing away some imaginary dust on his shoulder. "I tend to- _move_ a lot in my sleep-"

Her fingers curled into a fist.

"-and I've been told that I make a lot of noise too-"

One more word and he would find himself with a broken nose.

"-seems like my imagination is busiest in the dead of night-"

That. Was. It. Her fingers inched towards the knife lying innocently on the kitchen counter.

"Morning folks!" bellowed Blaise Zabini, swaggering into the kitchen. He winked at Hermione. "Malfoy's been a good boy last night I trust?"

She forced a smile and shot Malfoy a glare. "Oh yes. He was a _true _gentleman last night."

Blaise laughed. "A gentleman? My, my, what has the world come to?"

Malfoy smirked lazily and got up, and Blaise hummed loudly to himself while fixing himself some cereal. Hermione bit into a croissant vehemently and stiffened when she felt Malfoy stop right behind her, his voice low enough so that only she could hear.

"I'm so glad to hear that you've enjoyed my _gentlemanly_ display last night. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that you're so naughty, Granger."

She spun around on her heels and glared holes into that self-satisfied face of his, poking a finger in his chest with each word. "Shut. Up. And. Back. Off."

Malfoy snickered as she stormed off, slamming the front door behind her.

Blaise stopped humming abruptly and looked around bewilderedly. "Where's Hermione?"

"She's gone on a hunt."

Blaise blinked. "A hunt? For what?"

"A stick," replied Draco smartly.

"Where exactly is she looking for it?"

"Up her vag-"

"Draco!" shrieked Pansy, who had arrived just in time to here the last few lines. "It's 7:30 in the morning, for Merlin's sake. Get your mind out of the gutter already!"

"But that wouldn't be Malfoy at all, would it?" chirped Blaise cheerfully. "Coffee?"

* * *

Hermione Granger was never late. Back at Hogwarts, she used to finish all her homework and exam revision at least 72 hours in advance, which left her plenty of time to do constructive things, such as reading. Or helping Harry and Ron with their assignments on the very last night before a project was due.

But she changed. Fashion changed her. She discovered in the first week of fashion school that clothes did not work like that. No designer could finish his or her collection any earlier than an hour before the show started. Nothing was set in stone till the moment the model stepped onto the runway.

And strangely, Hermione liked it. She liked that thrill of teetering on the brink. It felt _dangerous_.

She silently mulled over this, her nose stuck in a mug of hot chocolate, curled up in a boneless heap on the sofa.

She had no idea what time it was. She did not know if it was day or night. She couldn't even remember when she last had something to eat.

She was just really, really tired.

But she had to go back to the dress. She was only halfway through the draping.

Hermione shakily put the mug down on the floor and got up.

Then fell down like a dead goldfish.

"Damn," she muttered, her cheek sticking to the cold marble floor.

Then she closed her eyes and slept.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was panicking.

Fortunately, she was still a pretty picture when she panicked. At least to a man in love. And Harry Potter was a man in love.

He watched his girlfriend of four years and three months dash around the flat, flapping her arms like a mother hen, demanding the phone to make Hermione Granger pick up hers.

"Ginny," said Harry soothingly, after she kicked a random cupboard in frustration. "I think you're overreacting, I'm sure 'Mione's alright. She always is."

Right after the words came out of his mouth Harry wished he had never spoken.

"She's _alright_?" yelled Ginny, her entire face a bright red. "Listen to me, Harry James Potter. Our friend Hermione Granger is NOT alright. NOT alright, you hear me? When was the last time she called us, huh? When was the last time you saw her, huh? What kind of a friend are you? You've hardly made an effort to move your arse to find her and there you are, sitting there with your stupid quidditch magazine and telling me she's ALRIGHT?"

Somewhere in the middle of her speech, Harry had retreated behind his stupid quidditch magazine, cowering from the majestic presence of Ginny towering over him.

He gulped audibly and suggested timidly, "Why don't you call Krum? Maybe he knows how she's doing?"

The storm seemed to be swept away in a second, and Ginny smacked herself on the forehead. "How could I be so_ stupid_?" She leaned in and kissed Harry soundly on the lips. "You're right. Viktor _has_ to know where she is. Surely he's been in touch, after that horrid way he acted in the restaurant-"

Harry waited for her to bustle out of the room before reaching up to wipe the sweat away from his forehead. He then patted the velvet little box that sat in his jumper's pocket with a sigh. Maybe it wasn't quite the time yet, not until Hermione Granger came out of her nutshell.

And Merlin he hoped she would soon.

* * *

"Lindsay!" yelled Draco, furiously scribbling on the contract his useless lawyer had drawn up.

The door creaked open after two sharp knocks. "Mr Malfoy?"

"Where the hell is Granger? I told you I need her to meet me, _now_," he finished writing his sentence in a flourish, and quickly rolled the parchment up.

"I did inform Miss Granger," said Lindsay frostily. "Perhaps she is too preoccupied with her work?"

Draco tied up the scroll with a green silk ribbon and handed it to the secretary. "Tell Hemmingway that this is absolute rubbish and that he is never to set foot in my building again. And now I'm going up to yell at Hermione Granger, if you'll excuse me."

"Certainly sir," she replied coldly, and gave him an evil glare which looked too similar Granger's for comfort, before shutting the door behind her.

Draco just _knew_ those two were plotting against him.

* * *

Viktor Krum was on push up number 97 when his cell phone rang.

He reached for it and punched the green button. "Hello?"

"Viktor? It's Ginny. Have you seen Hermione lately?"

He felt his heart leap. "No. Why? Is she okay?"

"YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HER?"

Viktor grimaced, flustered. "Um, no. I've been busy-"

"Don't tell me you haven't seen her since that night at Donatella."

He gulped. "Um- actually-"

"WHAT? Are you out of your MIND Viktor? Are you telling me you haven't even spoken to her after that?"

"I tried to call her, but she wouldn't answer," protested Viktor. "I thought she was angry at me so I kept my distance."

"Merlin, nobody would know if that slimy, grimy, slippery snake Malfoy had worked her to death."

"What? You haven't heard from her either?" frowned Viktor, panic blooming in his chest.

"Well, no. Which is why I've called you."

He picked himself up from the ground and glanced at his watch. Five to three. Perfect.

"Look, Ginny, I have to go."

"Where are you going?"

Viktor replied in a determined voice. "I'm going to Hermione's place."

He needed to tell her something very important.

* * *

Draco rubbed his face tiredly, slouching against the elevator wall. His visit to Granger had been held up by a string of lawyers from the corporate department fussing over some tiny takeover, effectively wasting an hour of his precious time. What was wrong with everyone these days?

The elevator door opened and he pushed himself off the wall, straightening his suit. Malfoys were always flawless in poise, if not manners.

The clicks of his leather shoes bounced off the white walls and echoed in his ears. Then he heard something else.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

Draco found himself breaking into a run, rounding the corner and rushing through the open door of Granger's apartment.

Viktor Krum was on his knees, bent over Granger, who appeared to be out cold, lying on her back on the floor.

His heart started to beat really, really fast.

"What the _hell_?"

Krum whipped around and upon seeing him, immediately leapt to his feet, shouting, "_What the hell_? What the hell have you _done_ to her?"

Draco swallowed the panic rising in his throat and coolly tucked his hands into his pockets. He said unperturbedly, "Hold your horses, Krum. I didn't do anything. I haven't seen her for a couple of days." Then, he added with a sneer for good, "And obviously, you haven't seen her since that night she walked out on you."

The quidditch star didn't seem to have heard a word of that, and went on bellowing mindlessly. "You _bastard_! I told her it's ludicrous, her working for you! How dare you treat her like a slave, you snake!"

Draco snorted. "Do you hear yourself speak?"

He saw it coming, and he ducked just in time to save his nose from Krum's knuckles.

"Merlin," growled Draco, backing away. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"You'll be sorry for what you did!" declared Krum, following his steps.

"What _did_ I do?" asked Draco through gritted teeth. "You stupid, brainless _maggot_?"

"You hurt Hermione!"

"You probably hurt her more than _I_ did!" snarled Draco.

"She hates you," he spat. "We all do."

They were now circling each other like two angry elephants. Well, Draco liked to think he was the serpent and Krum was the ugly mouse. But it did not really matter.

"We?" Draco arced an eyebrow. "And who do you mean by we?"

Krum smirked cruelly. "The _good_ people."

Draco sneered. "The _good _people, hmm? Tell me, then, you _good_ person. Where were you hiding when Voldemort came to Hogwarts? I think it was Berlin, wasn't it? Don't stare at me like that. I could bloody well read your address on the stupid chocolates and roses and perfumes you sent Granger. Heck, nobody in our pathetically cramped office could've missed those huge '_Love Viktor_' tags."

"That's none of your damned business," snapped Viktor, flushing like a schoolboy caught doing some very naughty things. "And why were you going through her post, you nosy bastard?"

Draco would've laughed out loud. He had been called many things, but a nosy bastard?

"Sure you can't come up with anything better than that?" he asked mockingly. Without skipping a beat, he continued ruthlessly. "Knew you couldn't. I see you've got an empty space where the brain should be just in case something like a quaffle goes through your head because you were too big and inept to duck."

Krum seemed to have trouble processing this stream of insults, thus confirming his lack of cerebral capacity. Fortunately for him, the revival of Hermione Granger saved him from further humiliating himself.

A single, forceful word (which Draco would've been more than willing to repeat if this story was not rated T), made its way out of Granger's lips.

Krum had crashed onto his knees, fawning over her delicate form in a split second.

"Hermione!" he cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Are you alright? You had me worried sick!"

Draco watched her blink in a rather disoriented manner before furrowing her brow. "Viktor? What are you doing here?"

"You didn't return my calls, I had to come to find you," he said softly, taking her hands into his.

Draco made a face at Krum's- _tender_ advances.

"Oh," replied Granger simply.

He observed offhandedly that she quite looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh," echoed Draco sardonically. "And if you two have exchanged enough gooey loving looks, I have some documents to go over with you, Granger."

That seemed to turn off the headlights. She shot him a callous glare but Krum beat her to the routine scathing speech that always followed. Except that it was more juvenile than scathing when delivered by Krum, of course.

"Are you insane? She just came round and you want her to go over documents with you?" he spat venomously, now drawing Granger into his arms.

Draco glared back and said, "What do you think I pay her for, huh? To play Sleeping Beauty?"

He was still congratulating himself for the amusingly identical looks of outrage on the couple's face when Krum leapt off the floor like a cricket- a very large one- and punched him.

Draco vaguely heard Granger shriek "Viktor!" before he struck again, this time catching his jaw.

"Viktor, are you_ mad_?"

Draco glared at the smug face of Viktor Krum, and sneered, "So you fancy a fight, don't you?"

Krum opened his mouth to answer, but before he could Draco had tackled him to the ground, and what followed brought him right back to his Hogwarts years. In the midst of punching fists and scratching nails, Draco relived the furious roar of blood in his ears as he strained to beat the crap out of the other boy who was half trapped under him while protecting his prized possessions in the south.

"You're a bastard, Malfoy," hissed Krum, dodging Draco's fist in the nick of time.

"At least I'm a good-looking one, loser," he returned rather immaturely.

Draco had just gotten hold of Krum's wrist and was about to twist it behind his back at the most painful angle possible when something exploded.

And that something was Hermione Granger's voice.

* * *

"STOP!"

The silence that followed was so complete that Hermione fancied it ringing in her ears.

She stared disapprovingly at the two men- ahem, _boys_- tangled up on the marble floor.

She took a deep breath and commanded, "Malfoy, let Viktor go, now."

Malfoy stared back coolly, as if he was going to defy her, but stepped down and composedly did so, getting onto his feet as gracefully as if he had just been sitting down to have a nice French dinner. Only the bruises and cuts on his thin, sharp face gave him away.

Viktor followed suit, stumbling a bit as he straightened himself up, his face red and bruised as well.

"Hermione-" he began.

She cut him off. "You two should be_ ashamed_ by your behaviour. I can't believe what just happened. How _old_ are you two?"

Malfoy snorted, and Viktor looked pained.

"Oh goodie, do we get a self-discipline lecture today?" scoffed Malfoy. "Or your favourite one on the exceptional case of reversed evolution of my brain?"

Hermione was sorely tempted to punch his nose to finish the pretty thorough work Viktor had already done on Malfoy's face. But being a woman of self-control, she settled for her best glare.

"Now, Malfoy," she snapped, all business-like. "Did you say you wanted to go over some documents?"

Viktor suddenly stepped in front of her, catching her hands, his dark brown eyes staring sincerely into hers. "Hermione, I want to talk to you."

She blinked, rather surprised. "Uh, I don't think this is the best time, Viktor. Why don't I call you lat-"

"I love you," he blurted out before she could finish her sentence.

Hermione stared at him. Strangely, all her brain could seem to come up with was that it was aware of the fact that Malfoy was watching her, perhaps with one of those contemptuous sneers on his face.

"Hermione?"

She snapped back into reality and said, "Viktor, I really don't think it's the best time."

"But-"

"_Please_."

Viktor looked like he was close to tears, and absurdly, Hermione almost found that funny. Almost. She chided herself for thinking such things and silently watched him trudge from the apartment, giving her one last glance over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut.

Malfoy gave a low whistle. "That man confesses his true and undying love for you and you send him away to go over some documents with me?"

"Oh shut up," snapped Hermione, turning around sharply and nearly fell from the wave of dizziness and took over her.

Malfoy caught her before she could trip over her own feet, and she looked up quizzically at him.

He snorted. "Don't give me that look, Granger. I'm just not very excited at the prospect of having to clear up bits of your brains if your head hits the ground. And if you really have as many brains as they say, it would be quite a mess."

She jerked her arm rudely from his grasp and marched over to the sofa, sitting down before her knees gave out. "I am touched by your concern, really."

Malfoy stayed where he was, in the middle of the living room, staring at her sternly. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No."

"Look, Granger, don't take this as concern of any sense of the word but I really would not want you to die of starvation before my collection is finished- and I assume it has not yet been completed?"

"_My_ collection," bit out Hermione.

Malfoy sneered. "You seem to underestimate the importance of monetary input."

"And you seem to underestimate the value of creative effort in this project," she retorted.

Malfoy tut-tutted, stepping lazily towards her. "Really, Granger, hasn't anyone taught you not to be rude to your boss?"

"Has nobody taught you not to harass defenceless female employees in bed?" she shot back.

His smirk widened to a grin at that. "Defenceless female employee? What was that electricity charm then? A toy? Why, I feel that I am wrongly accused of an offence I certainly did not commit."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. In fact. I distinctly remember you claiming you had a great night's sleep, and I have a feeling that if I really were harassing you, you would've said otherwise. But since you didn't, I am inclined to think that you actually _enjoyed_-"

"I was being _polite_," snapped Hermione, realising where the conversation was headed. "Blaise was in the kitchen, what was I supposed to say?"

"So you lied." Malfoy pretended to be horrified by the notion.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I lied, so sue me."

"Not a wise thing to say," he said silkily. "Considering the fact that I have a whole department of the top lawyers in the land."

"Oh no, I offended the great Draco Malfoy! I'm so _scared_," scoffed Hermione. "Put a sock in it already. Just because the word 'manners' in your vocabulary doesn't mean the rest of the world doesn't know it."

"I am appalled by your _manners_," said Malfoy. "At least I won't be blamed for the lack of manners since I don't have any to start with."

A trickle of blood caught Hermione's eye, and indeed, a trail of blood was making its way from Malfoy's hairline and down the side of his face.

"Merlin," she muttered. Sometimes she marveled how their conversations wandered off course, which was of course, to be blamed wholly on Malfoy's incredible absence of common decency.

"Sit down," she instructed, patting the empty space beside her. "I don't want you bleeding on the rug."

Malfoy did so, and said smugly, "You sent lover boy away to patch me up? If I didn't know you better I'd think you're going soft on me, Granger."

She silently conjured up a first aid kit and snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I told you I don't want you-"

"Bleeding on your carpet, yeah, whatever."

Hermione sighed and grabbed his chin roughly, making him yelp.

"Merlin, do women ever trim their nails?" he complained with a wince.

"No, nails are natural weapons all women are born with."

She gently dabbed the gash near his hairline and nearly smiled at the sight of Malfoy screwing his eyes up in pain, but she bit her lips just as they were curling upwards to their own accord.

"Aww, is little Draco hurting from a tiny cut on his face?" she teased, throwing away the stained cotton pad for a new one.

"Shut up, Granger."

"Why? Because I'm right?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Your voice annoys me."

"That's not true," she said lightly.

"Oh yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"I have a lovevly voice."

Malfoy snorted, gazing straight ahead. "Yeah, right. Lover boy is your number one fan, I'm sure."

She didn't answer, tapping her wand on the clean wound and watched it close up with a warm glow of light.

"So, you should be over the moon, now that he's practically proposed to you," said Malfoy nonchalantly, reaching up to scratch his nose.

Hermione's eyes followed his movement, and she said tersely. "It's none of your damned business."

"Ooh, did I strike a nerve?"

"Shut up."

"You know what I think?"

"I don't _want _to know."

Malfoy grabbed her hands, which had now proceeded to clean up a cut on his cheek, and said wisely, "I think you don't return his feelings."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "O wise one, how would you know?"

"First, he has shoulders as wide as the Himalayas are tall."

Her lips quirked at that. "What, you have something against broad shoulders?"

"No, but I know women do," replied Malfoy.

"Ah, I see you possess womanly insight, which is not too uncommon in men with feminine inclinations, I suppose," she teased, shaking her hands free of his grasp.

"Haha," said Malfoy dryly. "We both know perfectly that I'm straighter than a rod, so I'll just pretend I didn't hear that. As I was saying, no woman in her right mind would like a man with shoulders like Krum's. On the other hand, men with shoulders like mine are the most highly sought after."

Hermione shook her head. "Where do you store that gigantic ego of yours, Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked. "That sounded naughty."

"No, it's _you_ who twists words around in your warped brain which bends in one vulgar direction."

He nodded. "You know me too well."

She shrugged. "It doesn't help that I've been stuck with you on and off for more than ten years."

"You know you love it."

"The truth is quite the contrary, I assure you."

"You wouldn't have sent Krum out the door if you hated my company that much."

"I was being professional. You said you wanted to over some documents."

"And you were perfectly aware of the fact that I don't have any documents with me," he pointed out.

She glared at him. "If you must go to such lengths to convince yourself that I don't loathe you, fine."

Malfoy grinned. "I love getting you all wound up."

Hermione actually smiled.

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

A/N: I can't believe I just wrote a new chapter. It's long past bedtime for me, so I must keep this short- SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I suffered from writer's block and was just generally busy with everything else in life. A rather light and pointless chapter, but hey, I needed it to kind of pull things together. The action starts next time. Speaking of which, I cannot guarantee a speedy update, since Easter is almost here and I'll be incredibly busy. But I will try, as always, to produce a good chapter for my fantastic readers. Thank you so much for all your reviews guys, you rock!


	12. The Most Eloquent Silence

Chapter 12: The Most Eloquent Silence

_The most eloquent silence: that of two mouths meeting in a kiss._

* * *

Nobody on the face of earth heard or saw Hermione Granger again after Viktor Krum and Draco Malfoy left her flat the night they found her unconscious on the floor.

Well, at least for the next two days. And boy, what a difference 48 hours could and would make.

Paparazzi disguised as passers-by who saw the Quidditch star storming out of the Malfoy apartments had let their imaginations run free with fantastically fabricated stories of a lover's quarrel between him and his secret fiancée Hermione Granger, who had been engaged since that fateful Yule ball way back in their school days. Apparently, the couple had gone to great lengths to hide their engagement, as Krum never set foot on British soil for the next five years and Hermione never left Britain. Now that the couple were reunited, they could practically hear the wedding bells in the distance, but evidently the lovebirds ran into an argument over whether they should hold a spring wedding or a winter one…

"I haven't read such fabulous bullshit for a long time," declared Draco bluntly.

Blaise chuckled, shaking out the Gringott Times. "You, my dear friend, are obviously a very sad man."

"'The act at celebrity hotspot Donatella was a touch of genius'," he read aloud and snorted. He faked a feminine voice and cooed, 'Oooh yeah, I didn't want anyone to know about my secret engagement, so I went to the single most paparazzi-infested place in the galaxy where I can be seen throwing spaghetti at my fiancé, then walk out on him with my hot and sexy boss.'"

Blaise laughed out loud. "You definitely have the talent to write your own gossip column. Ever thought of expanding into journalism?"

"Shut up, Zabini," muttered Draco darkly, and moodily reduced the tabloids to ashes.

"Hey," he said suddenly, poking at the Times. "Looks like the whole wide world's all hyped up for your little show tomorrow night."

"Of course they are, they are such dismal beings that they have to feed off my blazing brilliance," bit out Draco, scribbling his signature on yet another contract. "I hope you've found something presentable to wear, I don't want my own staff embarrassing me."

Blaise arched an eyebrow and said jokingly, "Is that all I am to you? Your staff?"

"Shut up and piss off, won't you?"

He grinned. Blaise knew his friend all too well to tell that he was nervous.

"How's the project coming along?" he asked lightly, folding up his newspaper neatly.

"Fine," was the terse reply.

"I'm sure Hermione's done a superb job."

"Of course, considering the fact that's she's so bloody perfect."

"I think I detected a bit of sarcasm in that comment."

"I think I told you to shut up and piss off."

Blaise grinned. "As you wish, highness. I'll see you tomorrow night."

* * *

"It's done! It's done!" shrieked Hermione into her cell phone. "I can't believe it! I made it on time! YES!"

Fleur's laugh came through the line. "Congratulations darling! I cannot wait to see eet, I am sure eet will be magnificent!"

"Where are you right now? Maybe you can pop in to see it?" asked Hermione hopefully.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm in a remote village somewhere in Cyprus, eet is a miracle my phone can connect, I doubt there are any floo stations nearby. But I will be back tomorrow evening, I promise to see you before the show starts."

"Thanks so much Fleur," smiled Hermione. "Have a lovely time, I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Bye darling, good luck!"

Hermione hung up and did a funny little dance. To be honest, she felt like exploding into a million little rainbows and unicorns- now she knew what it means when one cannot contain their joy.

Three minutes ago Hermione snipped off the last tail of thread in the finale piece- a fluid forest green silk dress with a plunging neckline that should suit Malfoy's taste.

Not that she made it with him in mind, of course. The idea simply put itself in her head.

The clock chimed nine, and with a start Hermione realised she had not talked to Ginny for some time. She winced as a stab of guilt hit her. Poor Ginny, she must have been worried sick.

Sprinting into her bedroom, she threw on some jeans and an old hoodie. Grabbing her scarf, she charmed the lights off and ran out.

But she skidded to a halt and scrambled backwards towards her studio. She stuck her head in and she grinned like a child who had stumbled on a chocolate factory.

"Oh come off it already," she told herself, shaking her head.

Green flames swallowed her as she flooed to Ginny and Harry's place.

* * *

Harry nervously pushed his half-eaten cheesecake around his plate. He was practically sweating, and he glanced at Ginny, still ranting about Fred's new ugly girlfriend and how he could do better.

The boy who lived could hardly believe this. His hand was shaking more than when he met Voldemort face to face three years ago in the Slytherin dungeons.

_Potter, pull yourself together!_ He told himself. He rubbed his nose absent-mindedly. The little velvet box in his trouser pocket dug into his hip uncomfortably as he leant forward to pour more wine into Ginny's glass.

"- an absolutely disaster- thanks darling- I can't believe she could actually go ahead and throw all- darling, are you alright?" Ginny looked at him anxiously. "You look pale."

"It's the light," explained Harry with a weak smile.

Only a couple of candles hovered on the side of the tiny table they were sharing their meal on, casting a lovely golden light on Ginny's face. She had suggested a romantic dinner to mark their fourth anniversary, so Harry set up the scene- white table cloth, tall wine glasses, red roses and the like- and his amazing girlfriend cooked the entire three-course meal.

It was when he was buttoning the white shirt Ginny had ironed out especially for tonight that he decided he would propose tonight. They had been together for four years, and he wanted to start a family. He swore he noticed Ginny's lingering gaze on children in trolleys in the past few months- he was sure she wanted it too.

"Harry?"

"Sorry honey, maybe I had a bit too much wine," he grinned, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

Ginny laughed. "You're pathetic, Potter. You are the most powerful wizard of our time but you can't handle a glass of red wine."

Harry laughed as well, but did not reply. He held onto her hand and started reaching for the velvet box-

A familiar voice broke into their blissful little bubble. "Ginny? Harry? Are you in?"

Ginny nearly somersaulted backwards over her chair in her rush to get up. "SWEET MERLIN!"

Hermione made it to the balcony and was knocked backwards by Ginny, who looked about as ecstatic as… a castaway making it out of his island. Like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.

Anyway.

Sometime during his musings of a palm-leaf-wrapped Ginny on a raft riding the waves Hermione had flung herself into his arms and was squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs.

"Harry! I've missed you!" she squealed, and he grinned, patting her head.

"Did you have any idea how worried we were?" he asked as she stepped back.

"He's lying," declared Ginny, grabbing her hand and dragged her inside. "He didn't even realise you've disappeared for two weeks until I told him. And you!" She sat Hermione down on their squashy couch and commanded, "Tell me about your engagement to that sexy boss of yours."

"_What_?" Hermione gaped.

Ginny grabbed the previous day's Daily Prophet and shoved it in her face. "Tell me it's true, or I'll die of grief."

Hermione scanned the headlines and scoffed. "'_Off-the-scale Genius and Legendary Playboy: Hogwarts Sweethearts to Tie the Knot_'? Ginny, I thought you knew me well enough to have the sense not to believe in this nonsense."

Ginny's face fell. "Oh. So you're not engaged to Malfoy?"

Hermione waved her ringless hand in front of her best friend's face. "No."

"What about Victor?" asked Ginny hopefully.

"We're just friends, you know that," said Hermione defensively.

"Then why was he 'storming away in then rain, trembling with frustrated passion and the pain of unrequited love'?" Ginny read aloud from the article.

"I don't know, you tell me," she sniffed. "It's all you two's fault, you know. If you get engaged then they'll leave me alone. It's just too quiet out on the gossip front."

"Well, Zabini and Parkinson are getting married, aren't they?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, but Blaise has a rather- special relationship with the paparazzi," said Hermione.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Is it _Blaise_ now?"

"We work together," shrugged Hermione. "It's only polite."

Ginny looked rather suspicious. "Alright. Anyway, when's this big holiday you said you would have? Is it sometime soon?"

Hermione grinned. "Very soon. In fact, I just finished my assignment tonight."

Harry smiled. "Congratulations, 'Mione. What's it about?"

"Yeah, you never told us," chimed in Ginny.

"I can't tell you yet, but you'll know all about it very soon."

"I won't be surprised if it's a wedding you're working on," commented Ginny.

"Trust me, it isn't."

"I wouldn't want to work on a wedding," scoffed Ginny. "I just don't get all the fuss about getting married, you know."

Harry froze in his seat.

"I think you gave quite the opposite impression earlier on," teased Hermione.

"I don't mind going to weddings, getting free champagne and truffles is great, but imagine having to _pay for_ free champagne and truffles-" Ginny broke off with a shudder. "Don't you think so, darling?"

Harry started. "Oh yes. Yes, yes-"

But Ginny had already changed the topic to some womanly issue he did not understand. He quietly stood up from his seat and went upstairs, tucking the velvet box to the back of his underwear drawer.

* * *

Draco had just stepped out of the shower when somebody started pressing on his doorbell button like crazy.

"What the hell?" he muttered, grabbing a white towel and dragged it gruffly across his wet face before wrapping it around his waist.

As he strode across his living room, the grandfather clock chimed 1 a.m. It must be Zabini with a suitcase, he thought darkly. Pansy must have finally had enough of him and decided to kick him out. So much for getting engaged.

Oh well, at least Draco would get to say "I told you so".

Feeling rather smug about that he opened the door.

Imagine his surprise to see Granger standing there, staring openly at his damp and very well-toned torso. Not that Draco blamed her, of course. Potty and Weasel had always been too busy fighting baddies for body-building, and Lover Boy probably weighed more than a rhino with all that excess muscle. Heck, he'd jump himself if he were a woman.

"Yes?" he piped up bluntly when he judged he'd let the silence linger long enough.

Her big brown eyes snapped up to his, and for once, there were not rock hard with hostility, but rather glassy. Like she was…

"Are you drunk Granger?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. He took two steps towards her and sniffed. "Dear me, you are."

"I'm _not_ drunk," she denied authoritatively, crossing her arms.

"Yes, you are," he told her slowly, as if she were a five-year-old. "Granger, that's the second time I've seen you intoxicated. Trust me, it doesn't cast a particularly positive light on you. What of the young girls all over the world who see you as the symbol of moral superiority?"

Granger blinked up at him. "Moral superiority?"

Draco nodded. "You know, the thing you're always droning on about?"

"Are you telling me that _I_," she paused, laying a hand on her chest emphatically. "A woman in my early twenties- in my _prime_- am not allowed to have a good time?"

"Well, that's the impression you give people," said Draco with a nonchalant shrug.

Granger pursed her lips and gave him her best evil glare. "Let me tell you, Draco Malfoy. Just because I don't screw around as a habit doesn't mean I'm a _prude_."

One corner of his mouth went up in amusement. "Hey, nobody ever said that's a bad thing."

"You're mocking me. _Again_," she sniffed. "Don't you ever get tired of it?"

Draco pretended to think really hard, then said simply, "No."

Granger seemed to shrink in frustration- like a giant snake recoiling, ready to spring towards its unsuspecting prey.

Draco was certainly not prepared for the aggression that this simple word triggered.

"YOU!" Granger suddenly and violently poked him in his chest, making him stumble back a step or two. She followed him into his flat and turned up the volume. "I'm SICK of you! I'm sick of you acting like you're a GOD just because you sleep with a different women every night! I'm sick of you acting like you're so much BETTER than me just because you are rich! I'm sick of you laughing at me just because I'm UGLIER and FATTER than your supermodel shag-bunnies! And I'm sick of you because you just won't take me SERIOUSLY!"

Draco wasn't even aware of the fact that the little woman had backed him so far into his living room with her vicious poking till his toweled butt hit the sofa.

Granger stopped, breathing hard as she towered- to a certain extent- over him. Draco blew a raspberry.

"Wow, if only I knew baring my chest would have you baring your soul to me," he remarked sarcastically. Then, before he could shut his big mouth, he added none too wisely, "Tell me, Granger. Would you take that top off if I bare my soul to you?"

The woman seemed no less shocked at his question than he was. In fact, she looked so much like a goldfish opening and closing her mouth that it scared him.

"You- you- ugh! You _pervert_!" she all but screamed, wringing her hands as if in great distress. "You see, this is why I'm glad I've FINISHED my job- so that I'll NEVER have to see you again!" With that, she spun around and stalked away.

"What? Are you saying that you've finished your collection?" he asked, thankful for the new turn of events.

"YES. And trust me, Malfoy, you won't see me again after tomorrow's show, you sick bastard!"

Draco smirked, then faked a surprised tone. "Wait, what are you doing, Granger? Are you _quitting_?"

Granger froze and turned around. "No, that would put a cramp on my style. Grangers don't quit. You're _fired_!"

"Hey! You can't do that! I'm the boss, remember? Or are you so drunk you can't tell?"

"I'm NOT drunk!" she screamed.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you yelling at me?" he shot back.

Granger looked oddly red in the face as she shouted, "Because you just told me you want to see my breasts!"

Draco could not believe she just said that out loud. She obviously had problems handling that as well, judging from the slightly dazed look on her now thoroughly flushed face.

He broke the insanely awkward silence with a drawling laugh. "My virgin ears, Granger! Did you just say _breasts_?"

No words could describe what was going through his head as he watched a sly grin smooth out Granger's frown.

"Wait a minute," she said, sounding completely sober. "Malfoy, were you _flirting _with me?"

Okay, he confessed. He panicked. Big time.

"Sweet Merlin Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God- NO!"

Granger grinned impishly. Draco gulped. Who would've guessed she could look so… naughty?

"Was that a yes?" she asked sweetly.

"Are you hard of hearing? I said NO," huffed Draco.

He took a deep breath. What the hell was wrong with him? _He_ was the one who did the interrogating. _He _was the one who was in control. What was with him tonight?

Granger shuffled closer, folding her arms neatly across her chest. "Actually, you said 'Sweet Merlin Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God- NO!' Which, frankly, sounds like you're in denial."

Draco could not believe this. He? In denial? Ha. Very funny.

He leant back into the sofa and said coolly, "I'll be honest with you, Granger. You're deranged. In order for me to be in denial, there must be something between us in the first place. Like a magnetic field of attraction. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid there's only a huge, empty void of a wasteland there."

She laughed. Draco blinked. He'd never heard her laugh- not like _that _anyway. Like he had just said the funniest thing in the history of time. He was horrified to find his lips on an upward course towards a smile, and he hurriedly clamped his mouth into a grim line.

"Come on, Malfoy, admit it," Granger stopped laughing and went on mercilessly. "You're warm for my form, aren't you?"

"NO."

Then she went for the kill. "Then why did you kiss me that night outside my flat?"

Oh, bloody fantastic. Draco willed his brain to come up with something wonderfully sarcastic and witty that would wipe that smug grin off Granger's face. But with said face within two inches of his own, it proved to be impossible…

… Well, not quite. After all, Malfoys _were_ intelligent creatures.

If Granger wanted to play it dirty, so be it.

Draco stared straight into Granger's eyes, and, having seen the slightest of waver in hers, he pranced.

"I confess," he began, his voice low. "I lied when I said there is only an empty wasteland between us."

Draco smirked inwardly as Granger instinctively drew back, but he caught her chin deftly and brought her face ever so close to his. He heard her breath hitch.

"What are you doing, Malfoy? Let me go," Granger complained weakly, though making no move to extract her chin from his grip.

"Why? You were pretty excited about me being, and I'm quoting, 'warm for your form' just two minutes ago," he taunted her. "Are you _shy_?"

Draco congratulated himself when he saw chewing anxiously on her lower lip. "This is ridiculous. I was joking, okay?"

He tut-tutted. "What a shame. I was planning to do _this_."

Having said that, he pressed his lips to her warm mouth. It seemed that he had caught her completely off guard, considering the way she unceremoniously fell on him, straddling him. Draco grunted at the clumsy weight of the hoodie she had on, and with an expert flick of his wrists sent it flying over her head and onto the floor.

He did not even have time to dwell on his disappointment at seeing a modest t-shirt underneath, as Granger took the reins and kissed him. Without thinking, he slid his hands slowly up her jeans-clad thighs, and would've gone further if Granger hadn't pushed her hands into his hair and started kneading his scalp.

He needed to get her off his lap. Now.

Draco all but pushed her off him and onto the empty space on the sofa next to him, so that he was half leaning over her. She was breathing heavily, sending small puffs of hot air onto his warm face. He realised that he was no less out of breath either.

"But since you're not too keen on the idea of me getting the hots for you, I'll have to say- get out of my face."

His head snapped to one side as Granger's hand made painful contact with his cheek. He could only stare at her as she got off the sofa awkwardly, as if she had lost her axis of balance, and walked off without retrieving the hoodie he had gotten rid of.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart," he called after her.

She slammed the door shut. Draco sat there for a while, then sighed and decided to go for a cold shower.

* * *

Edited 29 May 2012

I hope this is satisfactory! Now we have two of them in denial, how quaint.

Thank you to those who agreed to help out as beta readers! I haven't sent this chapter to you as I wanted to get it up as soon as possible, but your help will be much appreciated next time!


	13. Showtime

Chapter 13: Showtime

_In an age when the fashion is to be in love with yourself, confessing to be in love with somebody else is an admission of unfaithfulness to one's beloved._Russell Baker

* * *

Hermione was dreaming.

She dreamed that her flat was inundated with people, all dressed in green. Malfoy's staff then. There were clothes racks everywhere, waterproof garment covers monogrammed with the Malfoy company logo were strewn across the marble floor. Polaroid cameras flashed as models posed in front of a plain, white backdrop- archives for the show later in the evening.

"Miss Granger, we need to start moving the clothes to Malfoy Manor. If you would like to get ready..."

She blinked at Helen, who had a mobile device fixed to one ear and a clipboard in hand, staring at her expectantly.

Oh for Merlin's sake, she was awake.

Suddenly aware of her embarrassing position, sprawled on the couch in the living room, Hermione cleared her throat and tried to assure Helen that she had it all under control. Unfortunately, sitting up that abruptly whilst hungover was a bad idea. She winced at the sudden stab of pain in her temples and only managed to croak an "okay" before she shuffled to her feet, cheeks flaming as she went on the walk of shame in her very own apartment.

As she stood under the rain shower, she became painfully aware of the fact that her mouth was dry as a crisp. How much did she had to drink last night? She remembered little other than being packed into a cab by Ginny and Harry after two bottles of wine. It was a miracle she even found her way back to her flat, really. She had a feeling that she made a detour somewhere. Did she go get any late night munchies?

She puzzled over this as she towelled her hair dry in front of the mirror behind the sink. Quickly casting a few charms to make herself look presentable, she frowned as her reflection yawned back at her.

Oh well, it didn't matter. What _did_matter was that today was it. The big show. Her first solo show, and it was going to be held at Malfoy Manor, at a Mystery Party where everyone who was anyone would be attending.

Hermione grinned and did a little dance, and her reflection winked at her and gave her a thumbs up.

Oh yes, it was going to be the best day of her life. Her last runway presentation was back at Saint Martin's, at her year's graduation show, sandwiched between tens of others' works. But today was just about her clothes.

Well, it was her clothes under the Malfoy label. With the secrecy clause in place, she doubted if anyone would ever know that she was the designer behind the seams (excuse the pun). But hey, it was just a one-off job. With this collection under her belt and the pay cheque, she could easily launch her own line.

That was the whole point of her taking the job, along with Malfoy's abuses, anyway.

When Hermione came out of the bathroom, the flat was almost empty. She got herself a glass of water in the kitchen and approached Helen, who was directing the last of the staff out of the flat, clothes racks in tow.

"Miss Granger! Are you ready to go?" asked Helen.

She nodded in reply. "Yes, let me just grab my hoodie and my sewing kit. Should I just floo to Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes that would be best. The clothes are on their way, chauffeured of course, we don't want to lose them mid-apparition," smiled Helen. "I have to go to oversee the setting up of the runway now, if I don't see you later, best of luck Miss Granger."

The flat fell silent as Helen exited, and Hermione sighed. She trotted into her bedroom and frowned when the hook on the back of the door, which was usually occupied by her crimson Gryffindor hoodie, was starkly empty. Glancing at her watch, it was already half past ten, eight hours to the show. Frantically scavenging through her scant wardrobe yielded no lucky hoodie.

Biting her lip, Hermione scrunched up her face in confusion. She could swear that she had just worn the hoodie last night. She couldn't have left it in the taxi, right? It had been rather chilly last night, she wouldn't have taken it off...

Oh. For. Merlin's. Sake.

NO.

Or, in Malfoy's words- _Sweet Merlin Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God- NO._

* * *

Malfoy eyed the hoodie with a sort of foolish suspicion. Like it would bite him if he touched it. After all, it did have the golden letters 'GRYFFINDOR CLASS OF 1996' sewn across the back, with a roaring lion underneath. Currently, it was growling at him menacingly.

Ah right, it must have witnessed what transpired last night on the couch.

Merlin was he pathetic.

First, Malfoys were NOT scared of cotton lions. Or paper tigers, for that matter.

Second, the couch incident was of such minuscule significance that there was no reason why he should even be thinking about it. She was drunk. Obviously the strains of being a virgin in her mid-twenties had weighed too heavily on Granger, and in desperation she had tried to sully his sacred body with her delectable hands...

The brakes in his head screeched loudly as he felt an uncharacteristic heat creeping up the back of his neck.

_Delectable hands my arse_, he thought darkly to himself.

A loud knock on the door shook him out of his trance, and he hastily cast an Invisibility Spell on the offending piece of clothing before stuffing it, with difficulty (how big was Granger to need a hoodie this big?), into his briefcase.

"Ready, Malfoy?" chirped Zabini when he opened the door.

"Actually, not quite," drawled Draco as he shut the door behind him. "I need you to find me the hottest date in town for tonight."

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at that. "I thought you would have had that sorted?"

"Well, I've been busy," he replied vaguely, stepping into the elevator.

He fancied he heard the lion growl indignantly.

* * *

Magnificent.

That was the only one word for what Hermione was standing before.

The Malfoy Manor's gardens reminded her of the gardens of Versailles. It stretched on for miles, and it was clearly modelled after the French palace grounds, but with a more subtle, modern twist. Fountains were made of black marble, and instead of elaborate baroque sculptures, they were simple and streamlined in shape, sensual in their fluid lines. Flowers were in full bloom in the British spring, and their sweet scent tinted the gentle breeze.

There was nothing like a dry, sunny British spring afternoon.

The runway itself was set up just behind the mansion, a more understated but no less stately facade. No trace of its corrupt and dark days was left. Hermione could hardly believe that this was the same building she had stormed and purged along with the Order a mere five years ago.

Congratulations were in order she supposed. As much of a ferret Malfoy was, he knew how to turn things around.

"Miss Granger!" a young man crashed into her line of sight, sweating like a champion. "The shoes and bags are here, we need you to pick them out now."

She smiled widely and nodded. "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

* * *

Two hours and about five double-shot coffees later, Hermione was sat on the floor, surrounded by her sewing kit, patching up the seam of a maroon pleated skirt that a model had stupidly torn apart whilst posing for a picture.

Photographers were everywhere, as were fashion journalists, TV presenters and fashion It girls who were mingling with the models and makeup artists, wrecking havoc on what had once been an organised backstage area. Funny thing was no one recognised her. The only girl of the Golden Trio was on her arse sewing a dress and no one noticed.

But there wasn't time to think about this now. The show was due to start in thirty minutes. Last-minute alterations were made left, right and centre; there was such a thick mist of hairspray that Hermione's eyes stung; and the backstage managers were herding models, being fussed over by their dressers, into order.

Hermione had snipped off the thread when her phone rang. Again. For the 47th time that day precisely, and from the same person. Viktor.

A dresser came by to whisk the skirt away for its designated model, and Hermione clambered onto her feet, not sure how she should feel about Viktor. She chewed her bottom lip with guilt as another text popped up on her screen. Maybe she should at least text him back.

Spotting Helen, Hermione grabbed her arm and told her that she would be back in five minutes, then dashed out of the suffocating confines of the backstage and into an empty corridor.

* * *

Draco was in a better mood than he had been for days.

The party was in full swing even before it had officially started. All of the investors he had set his eyes on had turned up, along with everyone who was somebody in wizarding London- actors, models, singers and painters. The paparazzi was having a field day.

They were particularly excited at the fact that Draco had on his arm the supermodel of the day- Coco Toscana.

Coco was surprisingly pleasant company. She was after all, for a lack of a better word, stunning even by Malfoy's impossible standards. She was also wearing a short and tight dress. And Draco liked short and tight dresses, especially on women with legs like hers.

In fact, he had liked it so much that he found himself abandoning important networking chitchat with potential investors to engage in some old-fashioned necking with Miss Toscana in a random corridor.

How nice it was to be snogging someone who was willing to be snogged, unlike some prude who couldn't even...

His train of thoughts was interrupted when Coco grabbed his right hand and placed it squarely on her bottom. _Oh, Merlin_, he thought as he grinned into her lips. _Jackpot_...

Or it would have been, if a startled shriek had not jolted them apart, followed by a very loud, "Malfoy, what do you _think_you're doing?"

With half a mind to irk her even more, Draco deliberately squeezed Coco's fine arse and drawled condescendingly, "Run along Granger, I don't do free shows, especially not for virginal souls like yourself."

Flushing crimson, Granger all but barked at him, "Malfoy, this is hardly appropriate behaviour _twenty minutes_before the show starts..."

"Draco, who is she?" cooed Coco, throwing an haughty glance over her slim shoulder.

"Nobody," replied Draco smoothly. "Why don't you go get seated now, I'll be right after you darling."

After making a big show of French kissing, Coco blew him a cheeky kiss and brushed past Hermione, who looked as though she was about to throw up.

"Very classy, Malfoy," she said venomously and applauded slowly and sarcastically as Coco disappeared around a corner. "Where did you pick this one up, at Slut 'R'Us?"

Draco settled comfortably back against the wall, secretly pleased at how wound up Granger was. "There, there, Granger, no need to be possessive now. We can give you a turn now if you didn't get enough of my fine form last night..."

Her jaw dropped and she squealed indignantly. "You are disgusting, you slimy, immoral, depraved _git_!"

"Come now, Miss Granger, why the potty mouth?" tut-tutted Draco with a sardonic smile. "Looks like I'll need to have you promise not to talk dirty at the conference."

Granger narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What conference, you dirty libertine?"

"Dirty libertine? That's a new one," grinned Draco provocatively. "Why the PR conference, obviously, where I will parade you as the designer of the collection."

"_What_?"

Draco sighed as she gaped at him. "What did you think, excuse my Muggle language, the _X factor_ is here, Granger? 'Hermione Granger, war hero of the Light, debuts fashion line with Malfoy International Corporation.' You're going to be a lightning rod for all the publicity and hype, which means _ka-ching_for me."

"Hype?"

"That's right, Granger, for once you get to be _all_the hype, they will be going crazy for you," said Draco cheerfully, patting her on the back. "And you won't have to share the honours with Potty or Weasel, or broadbacked Krum for that matter..."

Granger roughly brushed his hand off and spat, "I'm meant to be the _hype_?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, what do you think I paid you all that money for?"

He took her silence to be comprehension and made a show of checking his watch. "Fifteen minutes before the curtains open, better go and change into something decent. And get someone to do your hair please, I'm allergic to ugliness."

Then, feeling triumphant for having somewhat gotten back at her for the night before, he made to leave.

"Oh, before I forget," he stopped himself, conjured up Granger's hoodie from thin air and held it out to her. "Here's the hideous hoodie you left in my flat last night. Might want to wash it before you wear it again."

Draco should have been more alert to Granger's stormy silence. She calmly took the hoodie, then without warning, drew her arm back, and threw it straight at his face.

The last thing he saw before being tackled to the floor by the angry piece of garment was the Gryffindor lion baring his teeth.

* * *

She should have known.

"Open your mouth just a little bit hun," said the makeup artist. She obeyed and watched silently as he painted her lips a bright orangey red.

Of course that was why he hired her. The publicity. The hype. The triumph of telling the world that he had her- _Hermione Granger_, war hero, Golden Girl- as his subordinate.

Arrogant, spoiled _pervert._

She should have known. Not once had he shown any interest in her work, from the very beginning when she made her impassioned speech about Indonesian organic cloth till the very end. He didn't go backstage to look at the finished clothes, he was too busy groping that harlot with the beautiful figure. He didn't care. He didn't take her seriously as a designer, just as a what did he say? Oh yes- a lightning rod for profitable publicity.

As hard as she was trying, she couldn't help but feel hurt.

A wave of applause and cheers reached her ears, and she gave the makeup artist a tight-lipped smile. "Show time, I suppose."

He grinned and gave her hair one last spritz of hairspray. "Show time it is."

* * *

Hermione stood nervously just behind the curtains, peeking out discreetly from the heavy velvet folds.

The show was perfect, just perfect. It was surreal to see the reaction of the crowd, and she dared say that they loved it. As the sun set behind the Manor, the models stepped out in her evening pieces. The timing was perfect, she caught Helen's eyes on the other side of the backstage area, and grinned.

Applause drew her eyes back to the stage, and she smiled as the forest green gown with the adventurous neckline received a standing ovation. The crowd picked up the Malfoy reference then.

Speaking of whom, Hermione's eyes landed on him, who was seated at the very end of the runway. He didn't even look up as the model stopped to strike a pose, too busy with his hand on his date's thigh to bother himself with the show.

She hadn't noticed how hard she was gripping her dress until Helen tapped her on her shoulder and she unclenched her fingers.

"After the models make their final lap, Mr Malfoy will join you on stage," she instructed, showing her a plan of the runway. "You will stand there and Mr Malfoy will-"

"It's okay, Helen, I know what's going to happen," Hermione interrupted with an assuring smile.

* * *

This was it. Judging from the thunderous applause, Draco could expect a very healthy revenue from his new fashion line.

He readied himself to take the stage with Granger when he caught sight of a shade of red, moving quickly along the back corridor of the Manor.

Oh, shit.

He called his manager quickly and ordered, "Helen, improvise, I have to go."

Then he ran.

"Granger!" he roared as he caught up with her in the lobby of the Manor. "What in the name of Merlin's underpants do you think you're doing?"

She turned around, the red, floor-length dress she was wearing swishing around her feet gracefully.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Malfoy?" she asked quietly, her red lips pursed into a stern line.

No anger, no hate, just a quiet question. He was in trouble.

"I don't give a shit, you come back to the stage with me. Right now," said Draco through clenched teeth.

"No," she replied, lifting her chin as if in defiance.

He glared at her. "You won't get paid, then."

She laughed, then smirked. "That's the best you got, Malfoy?"

"You can't just walk away from this Granger!" he exploded.

"Why don't you watch and see, Malfoy," she spat back, turned and surprised him with a one-fingered gesture without even looking back.

"Granger! I'm serious!" he yelled at her retreating back.

"Screw you Malfoy!"

And she disapparated with a pop.

* * *

It has been almost 4 years since I last updated, but here I am. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint after this ridiculously long wait, it's the first creative piece I've written in a very long time so I hope that it met expectations. I am in the middle of exams now, so it might take a while before I update again. Nevertheless, I have the next couple of chapters planned out, so hopefully I will be finishing this story soon. Thank you for the sparodic reviews I still get after this long hiatus, enjoy, my readers!


	14. Ice Cream

Chapter 14: Ice cream

A stiff apology is a second insult... The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.

- _Gilbert K. Chesterton_

* * *

_Witches' Wear Daily_  
2 May 2004

Man of the moment DRACO MALFOY surprised the fashion-sphere with an enthralling show last night. If the forage into fashion was not enough of a revelation, the designer definitely is. COCO TOSCANA, named as one of the top 10 models to watch by WWD last month, is the sartorial genius behind the exquisite debut of the Malfoy label. A clever fusion of the elegance of wizarding classics and Muggle innovation, the editor of WWD hails it as a milestone in witches' fashion...

* * *

Harry and Ron hovered gingerly by the door of the guest bedroom.

Ginny was marching around Hermione's bed, collecting crumpled up tear and snot-stained tissues, while coaxing her to drink the mug of chocolate on her nightstand that had long gone cold.

Ron checked his watch and murmured, 'This is officially worse than that time when she broke up with the Muggle.'

'I hope she doesn't start making those banana things,' Harry muttered back, and shuddered at the memory of a half-dazed Hermione making sculptures out of bananas that looked eerily like her ex. Before sticking them into mugs of scorching hot coffee.

Ginny came out of the room with a full wastebasket, and said, 'I have to go get more Kleenex from the corner shop. Make her eat something please?'

'Okay, we'll try,' sighed Ron. 'No bananas though.'

Harry went into the kitchen as the door closed behind his girlfriend, and pulled out a tub of ice cream from the freezer. Turning to Ron, he asked, 'This stuff is supposed to work on girls, right?'

He shrugged, then squared his shoulders and worked up a cheerful tone before bursting into the bedroom. 'Mione! Want some ice cream?'

It was a rather awkward affair, them beaming like they were in a Ben & Jerry's commercial, holding a tub of Chunky Monkey and grasping two spoons. Silence reigned as they shuffled their feet and watched Hermione stare straight ahead, her eyes red and puffy, knees drawn up to her chest.

She was the very picture of female woe.

'I swear on Merlin's underpants that I'll kill Malfoy!' Ron burst out, and thankfully, Hermione slowly turned her face to look at them, and offered a watery smile.

Before Hermione had descended into her 24-hour spell of soundlessness, she had recounted her dramatic escape from Malfoy's party and every nitty gritty detail of his disgusting nature and appalling lack of morality.

Taking advantage of the turn in events, Harry sat carefully on the edge of the bed and offered her a spoon encouragingly. She picked it up and Ron twisted the lid off the ice cream pint, making airplane noises while swooshing the tub around as if she was a toddler.

She giggled and dug in.

_Phew_, Harry thought to himself. That was easier than expected. He looked worriedly at the bags under her eyes, and though she had come out of her trance, she didn't seem particularly keen to talk.

Really, she needed to snap back into it. Malfoy was just not worth it.

Harry furrowed his brow. She needed something to focus on. Hermione only functioned when she had things to do, but now Malfoy had stripped away her fashion line, she had nothing but an empty studio and an emptier bank account.

He started to reach up to adjust his glasses when his fingers bumped against the square box in his jacket pocket.

_That's it!_

'Hey Mione,' he began lightly, a grin lighting up his green eyes. 'How good are you at wedding dresses?'

She stared back quizzically, didn't speak and shrugged her shoulders. Ron frowned but didn't question him.

Harry reached into his jacket, slowly and deliberately, and pulled out the velvet box.

He wished he had a camera with him when he opened it and showed his best friends the diamond ring inside.

He wasn't sure if Hermione or Ron burst into noisy sobs first, but they sure tackled him at the same time, and he chortled as he shoved the box back into its pocket.

'What on _earth_is going on in here?'

Harry twisted around and smiled at his unknowing wife-to-be. 'I have no idea.'

* * *

_The Daily Prophet_  
2 May 2004

**COUPLE OF THE MOMENT:**  
**DRACO & COCO**

We at the Prophet HQ cannot get over how gorgeous billionaire playboy DRACO MALFOY and model/designer COCO TOSCANA looked at last night's Mystery Party hosted at Malfoy Manor! Wearing a heather blue bandage dress, COCO was unveiled as the designer behind the Malfoy fashion line after a breathtaking runway show in the gardens of the Manor, which will open as a five-star hotel in October this year...

* * *

Hermione was humming a tuneless song under her breath as she strode purposefully up the driveway to Zabini's house in swanky Primrose Hill, which was lined with beautiful blooms of red and white roses.

The brisk evening air buzzed with the Muggle-Repelling Charm that kept non-magical creatures off the Zabini estate. Hermione tightened her grip on the sketchbook that she had tucked neatly under her arm. It was brimming with sketches of wedding dresses, fabric samples and notes that she could not wait to share with Pansy.

Stopping at the doorstep, she rang the doorbell and couldn't stop the grin on her face as she imagined how excited the bride-to-be...

The grin slid promptly from her face as he opened the door.

'What are _you_doing here?' she launched a venomous verbal assault at his face, which she noted was no less surprised than hers.

Malfoy's mouth twisted in contempt, but before he had the chance to answer, Pansy bounded down the stairs, her eyes wide open in horror.

'Hermione!' she shrieked uncharacteristically. 'I'm _so_ so sorry, I completely forgot to call you to cancel. You see, Draco here sprang this whole dinner thing unexpectedly on us and I've been running around _all_day-'

'It's quite alright Pansy,' said Hermione in what she hoped was a soothing voice. 'I can come back any day.'

She let the rest of the sentence hang in the air with a demeaning glare at Malfoy. _When that bastard is not here._

Malfoy suddenly spoke up, with a pleasant smile. 'Why don't you join us, Granger? You've made it all the way here anyway.'

Hermione didn't miss the disapproving glare Pansy sent his way, and protested, 'Um, no really, I should get going-'

'I insist, Granger,' Malfoy cut in, opening the door wide open in a welcoming gesture. 'I'm sure Pansy doesn't mind.'

He arched an eyebrow, as if daring her to come in.

She should've known. She should've taken Pansy's almost pleading shake of her head seriously. She should've listened to that little voice of reason in her head that told her not to rise up to Malfoy's stupid taunt.

Because right now, standing by the long dining table where Blaise was seated, sipping wine and talking with Coco Toscana, Hermione wanted nothing more but to kick herself in the butt.

* * *

Draco chomped down noisily on his cutlet of lamb.

He hated to admit it, but he was a tad miffed, despite Coco's hand on his thigh and the delicious red wine Zabini had picked out from his extensive underground cellar.

'Draco darling, please chew with your mouth closed,' chided Pansy, who was sitting right across the table from him.

'Sorry, can't help it, I'm just enjoying this lamb too much,' he replied, deliberately with his mouth full. Then he swallowed and turned to Coco with a grin. 'It's almost as good as your ribeye steak, babe.'

Coco smiled playfully and giggled. 'What can I say, I can do more than make spectacular clothes!'

Sneaking a glance at Granger, he was disappointed to see that she was serenely enjoying her creamed spinach, smiling at Parkinson.

In fact, that was all she had been doing the whole meal, despite his numerous attempts to make her lose her cool.

'Draco honey, did I show you the sketches I made today for the resort collection?' asked Coco prettily. She turned to Pansy and Blaise and explained, 'I've been so busy designing the new collection, it's launching in two months, I am _so very_excited!'

He patted her hand encouragingly. 'I can't wait to see them.'

Of course, Coco had no idea that the entire table knew who exactly the real brains behind MIC's now legendary fashion line was. It was actually rather embarrassing how she had rattled on every other two minutes about her exceptional talent with the needle and thread. But hey, anything to annoy Granger - he was only too happy to play along.

Pansy stood up sharply, and gave him a tight-lipped smile. 'Draco, why don't you come help me with the dessert in the kitchen?'

As soon as the kitchen door swung close, a kitchen towel slapped hard him on his forehead.

'Ow! What the hell was that for Parkinson?' he howled.

'For being a dick!' Pansy yelled back.

'I wasn't being a dick,' argued Draco, rubbing the stinging patch on his forehead which he suspected was an angry red. 'I was merely making conversation.'

Pansy crossed her arms and glared at him. 'You were being an arsehole to Hermione and you know it, Draco, don't play dumb with me.'

He snorted and rolled his eyes. 'I was being myself, Parkinson!'

'No, your behaviour out there was disgraceful even by your guttural standards,' she said harshly. '"Ooh, Coco darling, you are such a wonderfully talented designer. Don't you think so Granger?" "You really should come to the next fashion show Granger, I bet you've never been to one." Seriously Draco! What is with you?'

Before Draco could check himself, he blurted out, '_She was ignoring me!_'

Pansy seemed to be momentarily stunned by his honesty. Having recovered, she narrowed her eyes at him. 'You sound like an attention-starved chihuahua.'

'I - I don't like being ignored,' he said lamely.

Pansy sighed. 'I know what's going on here. I've known you long enough to know this is what you do when you feel guilty.'

Draco scoffed. 'Guilty? Why should I feel guilty?'

'You treated her like rubbish and you know it! Now you go out and apologise to her. For the whole thing!'

'What whole thing?'

'The whole designer fiasco! She slaved over the fashion show and you just throw her work away like that, on your little slut!'

'I won't.'

'Hermione deserves an apology and you know it.'

Draco held his tongue, and frowned when Pansy let on a small, triumphant smile.

'Alright Draco, go get the custard from the fridge...'

Hermione stared at her gravy-laden plate and wondered when was the last time she had felt this awkward.

Blaise had excused himself to go downstairs to get some more vino, and unfortunately neither Pansy nor Malfoy had made a re-appearance yet.

So there she was, alone with Coco Toscana.

She seemed perfectly at ease, staring into space, her perfectly manicured fingers reaching up occasionally to swipe at her glossy bangs or dabbing more balm onto her lips.

The silence weighed heavily on Hermione, and she was going to say something when Coco's phone rang.

She shot Hermione an apologetic look before taking the call.

'Hi sweetheart,' she answered in a tone sweeter than sugar. 'Yeah, I'll be there. I'll try my best to get out of here in half an hour, it is such a drag,' she accompanied the word with a roll of her eyes. 'Of course I'm wearing your favourite knickers babe.'

Hermione choked on her mouthful of wine.

'Alrighty, see you then, miss you too,' Coco ended the call and tucked her phone into her clutch.

Then she turned to Hermione and smiled, all lipstick and straight white teeth. 'Let's keep this our little secret, shall we darling?'

* * *

Draco shrugged his jacket on, gave Pansy a kiss and Blaise a pat on the shoulder, before making his way to the door. Coco had left an hour before as her best friend had had an emotional meltdown, so he was going to home and have an early night.

He stopped short when he saw Granger standing by the foot of the stairs.

He was just going to leave without acknowledging her, when she stopped him.

'Malfoy, she's cheating on you.'

He frowned, looked at her serious face, then burst out laughing.

'You're going to have to try a lot harder to get my attention, Granger,' he sneered.

A sardonic smile twisted his lips as he saw her flush.

'I'm not joking Malfoy, I heard her on the phone-'

'Come now Granger,' he chuckled mockingly. 'Jealousy doesn't become you. If you want me, why don't you just-'

He was cut short by a sound, sharp slap on his cheek.

He was half-aware of the fact that he must have been gaping at her like a fish out of water, but she had already marched upstairs, leaving her cupping his stinging cheek.

He turned around and practically glowered at Pansy and Blaise, before stalking out of the house and slamming the door close behind him.

* * *

_The Daily Prophet_  
10 May 2004

**EXCLUSIVE:**  
**COCO TOSCANA MARRIES ROCKSTAR**

Just weeks after being revealed as the designer for ex-boyfriend DRACO MALFOY'S fashion line, a spokesperson for COCO TOSCANA has confirmed that the model/designer has wed rockstar XANDER NEIL in a private ceremony in Las Vegas. The newlyweds will go on a honeymoon in the Maldives before XANDER starts his tour with his band. Meanwhile, COCO plans to launch her own lingerie line in the wake of her hugely successful designer debut...

* * *

"Oh Merlin, that must sting," commented Blaise lightly, peering at the Prophet's exclusive newsflash over Draco's shoulder.

Draco felt like banging his head against the smooth surface of his oak table. Not only was he the dumpee this time. His ex actually dumped him to marry some joke of a singer.

For once, he was actually... Embarrassed.

"That man is greasier than Snape," he sneered, putting on a nonchalant front.

Blaise picked up the newspaper and leafed through it, before a panicked expression overtook his features. "Bugger! They bumped our engagement interview for the Coco newflash! Pansy's going to kill you!"

Draco arched a quizzical eyebrow. "What, exactly, do I have to do with the fact that you're not famous enough to hold out against that promiscuous golddigger?"

His newly appointed Chief Financial Officer of Malfoy Fashion slapped the back of his head with the Prophet for his quip. "You know if you didn't piss Granger off in the first place, none of this would have happened. No one knew who Coco was until you put her on that stage and proclaimed her the designer, who she certainly wasn't."

"Excuse me!" snapped Draco, rubbing the back of his head. "I did nothing to Granger, she took off like the irresponsible troll she is. And it wasn't my idea, it was Helen's."

"Come now Malfoy, we all know Granger is quite possibly the most responsible person in the world, and she was devoted to the project- what in Merlin's name did you say to her?"

"I'm touched by the trust our friendship inspires in you, Zabini," retorted Draco sarcastically. "I did not say anything to her. End of. Now will you sod off and let me work?"

"If by work you mean sulking in your chair and refusing to pick a new designer for your bourgeoning fashion business, then no, you may not," replied Blaise. "And I'm serious, Malfoy. Rumours are a-buzzing. Investors, including ours, are flocking to Coco Toscana after all this publicity. We need a new designer with the boom factor, fast."

Draco scowled darkly. "Fucking hell, this is ALL Granger's fault."

Blaise clucked far too condescendingly for Draco's liking and said, "Come now Draco, don't be a little girl and start taking responsibility for what you've done now eh?"

"Why don't you believe me when I TELL you that I have nothing to do with Granger's little trapeze out of the show?" Draco demanded as his annoying friend spun on his heels and headed for the door, whilst _Accio_-ing a thick stack of files which landed on his desk with a thud.

"Read the bloody files Malfoy, and pick a designer. Or kiss and make up with Granger, your choice," said Blaise, giving him a meaningful look. "Actually, you can't kiss Granger because Krum will smash your nose in, so plain making up will have to do-"

Blaise judged that he had outstayed his welcome as a paperweight glided through the air, evidently aimed at his nose, and he slammed the doors shut as the marble hit the wood.

He chuckled and rose his voice so Malfoy could hear him through the thick oak. "I'm locking you in and having Lindsay monitor the apparition wards so don't you think of leaving that office until you find a new designer."

"I'm not your bitch, Zabini!"

Blaise winked at Lindsay, who for once, looked mildly amused.

"He really is," he nodded sagely.

* * *

The clock ticked ever closer to seven o'clock, which was far later than Zabini would have cared to stay normally. At least he was making good use of time, browsing through the flower samples that Pansy had been bugging him to look at for weeks now. He was browsing in the loosest sense of the word, obviously, and was quite happily letting his mind wander to things more interesting than roses tied up in ribbon.

His eyes drifted to the grandfather clock by the door again. Twelve minutes to seven. Knowing Draco, it wouldn't be long until he came to his senses and realised that the solution to his present predicament was simple.

Get Granger back.

And judging by the painfully clear tension between those two, the world would be a much better place if they'd just gotten over their egos and shared a good snog. Or even better, spent a day and a half in the sack...

Blaise jumped a foot into the air when the door of his office was flung open almost violently by a Draco Malfoy who looked rather worse for wear. He smiled widely. He'd known Malfoy long enough to know what the frown on that pretty face meant.

He was admitting defeat.

"No one's good enough," declared Malfoy gruffly. "There's no one."

Leaning back in his chair, Blaise replied with a satisfied smile. "Well, mate, you're going to have to win her back."

Sighing heavily, Malfoy scowled at him. "How?"

"Well, let's see, have you ever heard of the concept of asking nicely?"

"Nice? She just slapped me the other night, I'm not going to play nice," he spat, his hands reaching up to loosen his tie with a frustrated pull.

"You deserved it," Blaise shot back in a most matter-of-fact manner.

Malfoy mumbled something incoherent, then said, "Forget nice, I'm better at being persuasive."

"And by persuasive you mean making threats," Blaise pointed out dryly. "In most people's minds that doesn't count as an apology."

Draco blanched. "I'm not apologising."

Blaise rolled his eyes and stood up just as the clock chimed seven. He picked up the flower samples and thrust the leather bound album into Draco's hands.

"Then let the flowers do it for you," he suggested, giving his boss a stern look. "Seriously, do the right thing."

"There's nothing more I want to do than punch that patronising look off your face, Zabini," grumbled Draco as they left the office.

The lights went off with a sizzle, and with a flick of his wand Blaise locked the door and turned to Malfoy. "Look, if you do the right thing, and Hermione doesn't come back, then you may punch me to your heart's content."

Draco smirked. "Promise?"

"Pinky." Blaise grinned and stuck up his little finger, stumbling as he was pushed into the elevator by a most moody Malfoy.

* * *

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed that. A bit of an interlude, will be picking up the pace soon! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I do apologise for the rather long gap in between updates, hopefully this was worth the wait.


	15. Bitchslap

Chapter 15: Bitchslap

Remember, when someone annoys you, it takes 42 muscles to frown but it only takes 4 muscles to extend your arm and bitch-slap the mother f*cker in the head. - _Anonymous_

* * *

Hermione's eyes flickered to Harry's, which were fixed resolutely on his plate of succulent chicken breast that Ron had cooked that particular evening.

It was a fortnightly ritual of theirs, and they rotated between Harry and Ginny's flat and Ron's, as Hermione's former studio was too small. But it was always Ron who cooked, often with leftovers from his restaurant.

It had been an exceedingly long day for the quartet. Three weeks had come and gone since her best friends lured Hermione from her teary stupor with a tub of Ben and Jerry's, and after two further helpings of Ron's banoffee pie, she resolved to pull herself together.

She managed to secure a loan from a Muggle bank and rented a new flat in Wandsworth Town as a new workspace. It was not only a quirky part of town, but with a growing wizarding community, a brand new Floo network had been built in the area. This was particularly helpful as Hermione had acquired two new clients, both friends of Pansy. And of course, another one was about to come on board.

Harry suddenly looked up and met her gaze with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was nervous, the poor dear. To be fair, Hermione was too.

And don't even mention Ron. He was currently ploughing aggressively through his potato mash, a telltale sign that his mind was somewhere else.

Swallowing a bite of her veggie lasagne, Hermione looked up and nearly choked when she realised that Ginny was staring at her most suspiciously.

"What?" murmured Hermione innocently, tidying up her peas.

"Something is going on," declared Ginny, biting her fork. "All three of you are as quiet as mice. What is it?"

Hermione shook her head adamantly. "Nothing! This lasagne is just... really good..." she trailed off, looking at Ron pleadingly for help.

Oh bugger. The redhead, bless his soul, had actually started tearing up.

The uncomfortable silence lingered for a minute before Ron cleared his throat, and said scratchily, "There... was a spider in my cereal this morning. A big one. I had to, uh, kill it... With my spoon."

It started with a snort from Harry, then a cough from Hermione who tried to cover up her giggles, then the whole table burst out laughing.

When the guffaws finally died down, Ginny bit her lips and grinned. "Alright, seriously, what's up? You know I hate being left out of the know."

The Golden Trio traded glances, and Hermione smiled at Harry encouragingly as she nodded her head.

Harry reached over and closed his hand over his girlfriend's with a smile. "Close your eyes for a minute, Ginny."

She crinkled her brow in confusion, frowning at Ron who had started sniffling again. Hermione handed him a tissue and her lips curved into a fond smile.

"Should I be worried?" asked Ginny as she watched her big brother blow his nose. "The last time I saw Ron cry was when Percy propos-"

Ginny stopped suddenly as the comprehension dawned on her, and one hand came up to cover her mouth as it hung open in surprise.

The lights went out for a second, and then floating candles and rose petals were everywhere. Hermione didn't even notice the melted wax drip onto her unfinished dinner, or gold glitter settling on her tear-streaked face. She grabbed Ron's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, just as Harry got down on one knee.

* * *

"Draco, what do you think? I'm quite adamant that eggshell looks better than warm beige."

Draco snapped back rather irritably, "Do I look like a give a shit, Parkinson?"

"Hey!" Blaise barked and slapped the back of his million-dollar head as he came back into the living room with a glass of port. "Don't speak to my future wife like that, Malfoy."

"Or you'll do what? Push me off the sofa?" he grumbled back, shaking out the newspaper in front of him.

Pansy huffed and rolled her eyes. "What's gotten your knickers into such a twist, darling?"

Blaise peered over his best friend's shoulder and despite the latter's attempt to quickly turn the page, the damned paper crinkled rudely and refused to cooperate. With a chuckle, Blaise drawled. "Well, looks like our boy here may have a serious case of green envy. Did you know Hermione is going out with Krum, honey?"

"Oh yes, they've been back together for two weeks now, didn't you read Witch Weekly yesterday? They were photographed shopping for vintage furniture in Portobello Market," replied Pansy, holding up two ribbon samples and eyed them critically. "Tiffany blue or robin egg blue, honey?"

"What are they for?"

"The ribbons for the centrepieces. I picked these wonderful glass vases from an antique store in Paris, they'll look simply lovely with red roses and one of these ribbons."

"Are you talking about that antique store near the Bastille Market?"

"No, Blaise, the one by Notre Dame. Now, Tiffany blue or robin egg blue?"

"But I thought we decided to get the vases from the antique dealer near the Bastille-"

"We never decided anything together about the vases, you didn't even look at-"

"Pansy, that is unfair-"

"I sent your secretary an entire album on vases-"

With a shrill burst the glass of port in Blaise's hand shattered, along with two of the light bulbs in the Art Nouveau chandelier that hung low over the now silent living room.

The Zabini's stared mutely as Draco stomped towards the fireplace, practically humming with an angry energy. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he thundered, "HERMIONE SODDING GRANGER'S FLAT", and disappeared into the green flames.

When the fire died down, Blaise blinked and looked down at his bleeding hand. "I might need a bandaid, honey."

A huge hiccup racked Hermione's more than slightly intoxicated frame.

Padding around her new bedroom, she shrugged on an oversized woolly sweater and flipped her wet hair out of the back of the collar. She almost fell over as she put on her knickers, but she caught herself before she made contact with the floor. With a wink at herself in the mirror, she silently congratulated herself for her excellent reflexes.

"Now, where are those tracky bums?" she asked herself chirpily, hands on hips. "Must have left them out in the living room."

Wiggling her feet into her fluffy polar bear slippers, complete with felt claws, she shuffled out of the bedroom, realising belatedly as the door swung shut that she didn't remember where the living room light switch was.

Stranded in the middle of nowhere, Hermione huffed and grappled blindly in the dark, searching for a wall. She yelped as she walked into something that felt like a stick, poking her in the stomach.

Ahh, must be the frying pan, she thought as she reached out to grip the handle. It felt heavy. She must have forgotten to clean up the remnants of her fry-up this morning...

"I hope you're not wearing knickers underneath, Granger."

With a bloodcurdling scream, Hermione swung the frying pan as hard as she could towards the source of the voice.

Some time between her swing and the almighty impact, the lights came on and Hermione was suddenly staring down at a really pissed off Draco Malfoy, howling in pain.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you Granger?" he barked at her, one hand on his face which was dripping with blood.

Blood. Dripping down his face.

A panicked sweat broke out on her forehead and Hermione began shrieking hysterically, falling onto her knees and letting the frying pan go with a loud clatter. "Oh my God I BROKE YOUR FACE! You're bleeding, Draco, bleeding! Does it hurt? I'm so, _so_ sorry-"

"Granger-"

"I just moved in, I don't know where the bandages are, oh Merlin what do I do-"

"Granger-"

"Maybe you should lie down? Yes, you should lie down. Oh God you must be losing so much blood-"

Hermione stopped abruptly when Malfoy grabbed hold of her wrists and shook her hard, so hard that she saw stars. "Granger. Shut up. It's just baked beans."

She blinked the stars away and squinted. Little morsels of Heinz baked beans were sliding down the side of Draco Malfoy's face. She had to bite her lips hard to hold in that traitorous giggle bubbling up her throat.

An "oops" was all Hermione managed to squeak awkwardly.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow and almost half-smiled at her. "My, my, are you drunk again, Granger?"

Hermione grinned triumphantly. "I drank a whole bottle of champagne. All by myself."

"I've seen you in this state one too many times, Granger," replied Malfoy, his tone almost amused.

"Well, I guess you just have impeccable timing," she shrugged, grabbing a rag off the oven handle and shuffling closer to Malfoy. Hermione grabbed his chin with one hand and started scrubbing away.

He grimaced as she strayed a bit too close to his eye, and asked, "So, what's the occasion this time?"

"Harry and Ginny got engaged!" she answered, throwing her arms up in celebration. Draco had to dodge a couple of flying beans. "It was so beautiful, there were candles and roses and ice cream and -"

Draco stared at her quizzically when she trailed off. He really should have seen it coming. That little telltale twitch of her left eye. He had, after all, witnessed the drunken wrath of Granger one too many times.

With impressive agility considering her lack of sobriety, she sprang up and scrambled backwards, pressing her back against the sink, teeth baring as she yelled, "WHAT in the name of MERLIN are you doing in my flat?"

Draco hesitated. He realised belatedly that he did not have an action plan. Flooing to Granger's flat had definitely been an impulsive act, brought on by the inane chattering of centerpieces and beiges and robin egg blues. Damned the Zabini's.

"WELL?" bellowed Granger when he didn't answer. "Fine, don't answer me. Ugh, I need to sober up."

Draco stared as the she swiveled around, then literally bent over and dunked her head under the faucet, noisily slurping in the running water.

And from where he was sitting, Granger was unmistakenly wearing green, lacy knickers.

A sharp hiccup from her jerked Draco from his trance. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he drawled, "Remind me to introduce you to someone, Granger."

She turned off the water and wiped her mouth with a sleeve. "Who?"

"Brita water filters."

Granger grinned rather unexpectedly. "Draco Malfoy uses Brita water filters?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh Merlin not the Muggle thing again, _shut up-_"

Placing a dramatic hand on her chest, Granger cooed in a high, girly pitch, "Oooh, I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm so pureblooded I'm allergic to anything other than pure, filtered water-"

"Granger!" Draco barked, grabbing a fistful of his hair in exasperation. "It's not about allergies you bint. There's chlorine in tap water, it's like drinking water from a swimming pool, how does that make any sense? Would you drink pool water?"

Undaunted, Granger rambled on. "I'm Draco Malfoy! I'm so bloody rich I only shower with fizzy Perrier air freighted from the Alps because my fine arse is too high class for plain water-"

"That is ridiculous!" he yelled back, jumping onto his feet. "Who would have Perrier showers? How is that even possible?"

Granger shot back without skipping a beat. "Why don't you hire a butler whose only job is to fill your water tank with Perrier day in day out?"

"Don't be stupid, Granger-"

"Oh hey! Here's an idea! Why don't you build an underground waterpipe system that connects your water tank directly to the Perrier distillation plant?"

"That's it! _Stop talking woman_!" shouted Draco, fisting his hands at his side before he did something he regretted. Like flicking her hard on the forehead.

Glaring at him, Granger snapped, "Fine! I'll stop talking..." Turning around, she opened a cupboard and pulled out a ridiculous Mickey Mouse mug, and filled it with tap water. Then she held it out to him and said, "When you drink this."

"I'm not drinking unfiltered tap water from that ugly mug!"

"Drink it!"

Draco rolled his eyes at her in the most patronising manner possible. "Why? What bloody point does it prove?"

"That you're not a pansy," smirked Granger.

"Just because I have enough common sense to not poison myself with tap water doesn't mean I'm a pansy!"

"Just do it," she commanded, thrusting the mug in his face.

"No."

"Do it! Drinkitdrinkitdrinkit-"

"Alright, alright, I'll do it," he said, took the mug, turned around and proceeded to throw it into the closest wall - which shattered into what looked like millions of black, red and white shards of porcelain.

A deadly silence descended onto the tiny kitchen. Draco didn't realise he was breathing hard with frustration until then... or the fact that Granger was wearing polar bear slippers.

"Come back to me," he blurted out when he couldn't handle the silence anymore.

Granger's eyes snapped up to his at that, thoroughly confused. "What?"

"Come back as my designer," he clarified.

"Come back?" echoed Granger quietly, falling back against the kitchen counter, but he couldn't quite figure out if it was from relief or disbelief. "You want me to come back to you as your designer?"

Draco nodded, not trusting the sudden calm that had befallen Granger. He tried to be as subtle as possible as he looked for the twitch in her left eye, which was hard to do as she had both her eyes close, as if in mediation.

He felt his own eye twitch nervously.

When Granger spoke, each word came out slowly through clenched teeth. "You must be fucking kidding me."

Draco faltered. He knew Granger wouldn't crack easily. He expected some more irrational screaming, but he certainly didn't expect this quiet rage from her.

"I'm not kidding," he replied. Steeling his resolve, he forced himself to speak the truth. "I can't find anyone else Granger, there's no one else. You're the only one for the job."

It really was the worst time, but suddenly Draco was noticing the little mundane things about Granger. Like how she had freckles on her cheekbones, but more on the right one than the left. And how she had really nice legs, especially now that the hemline of the sweater was moving up as she crossed her arms protectively over her chest...

Before he could stop it, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "I know it's not high summer or anything, but still, could do with a shave, Granger."

Triumph felt more like hollowness this time as Draco watched her face flush bright red. Nonetheless, Granger's hostile gaze was pinned right on him.

"You humiliate me," she began somewhat shakily, as if struggling to keep her anger in check. "You mock me. You don't respect me. You don't care about fashion. You told the entire world that your slut bunny ex-girlfriend designed my collection-"

"It's _your_ fault Granger! You ran off! What was I supposed to-"

"_Don't_ interrupt me," she hissed.

Draco kept his mouth shut. Somewhere in his head he knew that a line had been crossed.

"There's no way I'm coming back, Mr Malfoy," she spat and pushed past him.

Something in him snapped. No one dismissed him, least of all Hermione holier-than-thou Granger. He forced a nonchalant shrug. "Fine. You don't get paid then."

Stopping in her tracks, she spun around and growled, "What?"

Draco smirked coldly. "You're pulling out of the contract, so I'm retracting my promises. The penalty is your salary and the repayment of your debt to the bank."

Granger responded with a curl of her lips as frosty as his. "Sure, go on, make threats. That's all you're good for anyway."

Taking three calculated steps towards her, he carefully slid a finger under her chin and tilted her face up, before whispering slowly, "I am going to _destroy_ you, Granger."

"You go ahead and do that, Malfoy," she replied with a serene smile. "See if I'm scared."

"You really should be," he said, mirroring hers with a tight-lipped smile. "I should go, it's getting late."

"Wait a minute, Malfoy," she stopped him with a hand on his arm, reaching towards his face. "You just got a little something on your face-"

Unfortunately, Draco spotted that eye twitch a second too late.

He was not sure if he was imagining it or if Granger actually shouted KAPOW. But between the incredibly painful smart on his left cheek and the sting of what felt like tears in his eyes, one thing was indisputable - it was the bitchslap of the century.

* * *

A/N: This chapter has been so much fun to write, especially that fight scene, which is inspired by Jess and Nick's epic fights in New Girl (if you don't watch that show, go and watch it now!). Thank you my lovely reviewers for your responses to the last chapter, I know Draco is being an absolute prat but he will have his atonement at some point. I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter!


	16. Got Milk?

Chapter 15: Got Milk?

_I won't eat any cereal that doesn't turn the milk purple_. - Bill Watterson

* * *

_EXP: 16/05/04_

Hermione groaned loudly at the carton of milk. She wondered if it was okay to drink milk that expired four days ago. She unscrewed the lid and made a face at the terrible sour smell.

Damn it, but she wanted cereal.

She hadn't even brushed her teeth yet and she wasn't wearing a bra, but well, she could just nip down to the corner store, keep her mouth shut to rein in the morning breath and run back up.

Slipping her flip flops on, she grabbed some change and ran down the stairs, her arms crossed over her unsupported chest. Thankfully she didn't bump into any of her neighbors on the way. She reached out to open the door and... Well, she couldn't see anything. Only whiteness.

Had she gone blind?

The noise was so incredibly loud that she was surprised she didn't hear it until now. It was the paparazzi, shouting her name and shoving their cameras in her face.

She wasn't sure if it was ten seconds or ten minutes before she managed to unfreeze and slam the door shut, the loose change tumbling out between her fingers, her back glued to the cold steel door.

What the _hell_ was going on?

* * *

_The Daily Prophet_

_21__st__ May, 2004_

_**BREAKING NEWS: HERMIONE GRANGER THE REAL MASTERMIND BEHIND MALFOY FASHION LINE**_

In one of the biggest plot twists the fashion world has ever seen, it has been revealed that HERMIONE GRANGER is the designer of the wildly successful fashion collection DRACO MALFOY'S company launched. There is a two-month waiting list for fashionistas wanting a slice of the thirty-piece collection...

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_21__st__ May, 2004_

_**SPECIAL MID-WEEK EDITION: OMG HERMIONE!**_

Can you spell D-R-A-M-A? It turns out that HERMIONE GRANGER is the designer of DRACO MALFOY'S fashion line, not his model ex-girlfriend COCO TOSCANA. How did this happen? _Witch Weekly_ delves deep into the web of intrigue of wizarding fashion to shed some light on this dramatic development...

* * *

_The Gringott Times_

_21__st__ May, 2004_

_**GRANGER: THE UNEXPECTED SARTORIAL GENIUS**_

According to a leaked insider source, MALFOY INTERNATIONAL CORPORATION (MIC)'s venture into fashion was the creation of HERMIONE GRANGER. The ingenious fashion line is responsible for the big leap in MIC's share price this month underpins the conglomerate's outstanding growth this quarter...

* * *

"I can't bloody believe it. I hadn't even brushed my teeth."

Ginny chuckled, holding up the Daily Prophet at eye level while Hermione busied herself with taking the bride-to-be's measurements. "I wonder who this mysterious inside source is," she mused.

Hermione didn't reply. Ginny narrowed her eyes at her silence.

"You _know_, don't you, Mione? Who is it?"

"I don't _know_," replied Hermione, tucking away the tape measure and plucking the newspaper out of Ginny's hands. "I just... It's a stupid... I mean, there's no way of..."

Ginny snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Hermione! _Tell_!"

The assertiveness of her voice brooked no argument. "Okay, fine, but you're not allowed to laugh at me. I think it's... Malfoy."

Ginny held it in for three seconds, before bursting into guffaws. "_Malfoy_? Come on, Mione!"

"I told you not to laugh!"

"I'm sorry, but... _Malfoy_?"

Hermione gave the redhead a pointed look, _Accio_-ing a book of fabric samples from the bookshelf. "Sit down, Gin. And yes, Malfoy."

Ginny sank down onto the couch and grabbed the floating book, crossing her legs. "No way. He's an arsehole, and all this-" She picked up the Prophet and waved it around. "- is actually a really sweet gesture."

With a nonchalant shrug, Hermione leaned over and flipped through the pages. "You know I believe in the good in people, Gin. Here, that's the French lace I was telling you about. Isn't it just lovely?"

Ginny snorted, completely ignoring the lace. "You believe in the good in people? Alright, drop the Ghandi act Hermione. We're talking about Draco Ferret Face Malfoy here."

"Can we _please_ just not talk about it?"

"Did something happen that I should know about?" asked Ginny with a suspicious twist of her lips, drawing her knees up to her chest.

It was on the tip of her tongue. She hadn't told anyone... Should she? Huffing, Hermione closed the book and sighed.

"We-ll," she began hesitantly, which piqued Ginny's interest immediately. Hermione kept her eyes glued to her unpainted fingernails and murmured, "We might have... Kissed a couple of times."

Hermione winced at the ominous creaks and groan of the second-hand couch she got from Gumtree as it laboured under Ginny's hysterics. "WHAT? WHEN? WHY? WHAT? WHEN?"

"I was drunk, and then I don't know, it just... happened."

Ginny looked positively gleeful at the flush on Hermione's cheeks. "When was this, you cheeky minx? I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"A couple of months ago."

Ginny tilted her head to the side and dragged out the single worded question with a sly smile. "Aaaaand...?"

Hermione decided not to dignify the question with an answer, which only broadened Ginny's grin. "_That_ good, eh? I've always wondered if Malfoy was a good snog."

"Ginny! You're engaged!"

"Pffft! You know what, Mione, I think he fancies you."

"NO," replied Hermione vehemently. "No, no, no, no, _no_." She took a deep breath and said with finality, "_No_."

"Merlin's balls, could say _no_ more," muttered Ginny with an eye roll. "Well, there you go, it was most definitely Malfoy who leaked the news. You should go thank him. With a good bit of Frenching."

"Ginerva Molly -"

Flicking her red hair over her shoulder in exasperation, she sighed dramatically. "Alright _fine_! Go buy a Thank You card or something boring like that! Now, about that French lace..."

* * *

Hermione stared forlornly at the card in her hands. How did she ever think a Thank You card was a good idea?

It had been so much trouble as well. The WHSmith around the corner didn't have the best selection of greeting cards, so she had to settle for one with a grey kitten in a teacup, with a simple "Thank You" scribbled underneath in a most irrelevant fashion. But it really was the lesser of two evils - the only other Thank You card in stock involved a flying dwarf.

Then there was the actual trouble of writing the damned card. She spent around ten minutes debating how to address it to him. "Mr Malfoy"? (Too formal.) "Dear Draco"? (Too familiar.) "Hey boss"? (Ha!) And what exactly was she to fill the huge white expanse of the card with? A limerick or a poem? And how would she sign the card? Somehow the usual "Hermione xoxo" didn't seem quite right.

The eventual result was rather spartan, but she supposed it served its purpose.

_DM,_

_Thank you very much for your very kind gesture._

_My sincerest appreciation,_

_HG_

She had to physically restrain herself from adding an "xoxo" after _HG_ to somehow reconcile the terribly mismatched content of the card with the kitten in the teacup.

Straightening her back, she decided that all this dawdling was rather pointless, and reached out to knock firmly, three times.

The door swung open to reveal Draco Malfoy. Dressed only in dress pants.

It was probably the only time Hermione had ever managed to catch Malfoy off his guard. He stared at her as if he saw a ghost.

"Um, hi," said Hermione awkwardly, breaching the uncomfortable silence.

He nodded tersely. "Granger."

Before she lost her nerve, Hermione shoved the grey envelope into his hand. "I just wanted to say thanks, Malfoy."

He didn't even look down at the envelope, but arched an eyebrow and asked nonchalantly, "Whatever for?"

"I know you were the insider source."

Malfoy shrugged and deadpanned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It was a really kind gesture, and I want to offer my sincerest appreciation," said Hermione, wincing as she realised that she had just paraphrased what she wrote in the card. "I mean, if you need anything, anything at all..."

Malfoy didn't reply and let the silence linger and morph into something less than appropriate. She could swear she saw the corner of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

"No! I didn't mean that, obviously!" she snapped, rather miffed at the fact that she felt her ears turning red in self-consciousness, made worse by stumbling over her next words. "You know like if you need, um, a favour in making... dresses..."

"Draco, where did you go?"

Her eyes snapped up to the brunette who appeared in her line of vision, whose dress was practically falling off her shoulders. Well, that explained why Malfoy was missing his shirt.

Hermione quickly averted her eyes, but the woman gasped and all but pushed Malfoy out of the way, grasping her hands. "Merlin! It's Hermione Granger! _So_ nice to meet you, I am literally in love with you!"

"Thank you so much, I'm flattered really-" she began.

"I'm on the waiting list for half of the dresses from your collection. I can't wait to finally take them home, especially that floor length one that closed the show, it's just _divine_-"

"Look, I'll get a dress from her for you, okay?" Malfoy cut in snappishly and nudged his overnight guest away from the doorway.

"Yes, sure, that can be arranged," replied Hermione with a smile.

With a nod, Malfoy moved to close the door. "Goodnight Granger."

"Goodnight Malfoy."

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_29__th__ May, 2004_

_**ANNE LAWSON LOOKS STUNNING IN HERMIONE GRANGER**_

Supermodel Anne was pictured wearing a gorgeous bespoke wrap dress designed by Hermione Granger on a dinner date with current love interest, millionaire Draco Malfoy...

* * *

_Witches Wear Daily_

_3__rd__ June, 2004_

_**HERMIONE GRANGER DRESSES DIANE MCCARTHY FOR THE RACES**_

Actress Diane McCarthy was spotted on the arm of tycoon Draco Malfoy at the races on Sunday, looking beautiful in a beaded dress custom made by designer of the moment, Hermione Granger...

* * *

"You know, it would be cheaper if you just took Granger out for a nice dinner."

"What the fuck are you on about, Zabini?" drawled Draco with a barely suppressed eye roll, more interested in reading the _Gringott Times_.

The ice clinked as Blaise took a sip of his rum on the rocks. "How many of Hermione's custom made dresses have you bought for your dates these two weeks?"

"I like having my dates look presentable. I have impossibly high standards."

"And how many times did you go to Hermione's studio this week to make sure the dresses are of your impossibly high standards?"

Damnit. Draco thought he'd managed to be discrete. That damned sneaky bastard.

"I will do what I please, Zabini, I don't have to explain myself to you. Now shut up and drink your rum."

"I heard you left a client meeting early to go to Granger's. Why don't you just admit that you like her?"

"Shut up, Blaise. Seriously."

"You like her."

"No."

"You fancy Hermione Granger. I thought I'd never live to see this day."

"Keep on talking Zabini, and I'll make sure you don't."

"Draco and Hermione, sitting in a treeeeeeee- OW! Bloody hell Malfoy, my nose!"

* * *

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger and Guest,_

_You are cordially invited to attend the wedding and reception of Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. Please RSVP by 25__th__ June._

_Date: 15__th__ July, 2004_

_A portkey will be delivered to you on the morning of the wedding and will be activated at ten o'clock. Guests are required to arrive and be seated by half past ten._

_We look forward to seeing you on the joyous day,_

_Pansy and Blaise_

* * *

"I can't believe your wedding is less than a month away!"

"I know, it's ridiculous how quickly it's coming," replied Pansy, who was currently standing stock still as Hermione made small alterations to the wedding dress. "There's still so much to do with the flowers, the catering and the decorating, but at least the dress is almost done!"

Hermione smiled warmly. "That it is. I just need to do a bit more work on the veil."

"So are you bringing a plus one to the wedding, Hermione?"

"I was going to bring Harry, or Ron, or Ginny, but I don't know which one you are chummiest with," teased Hermione, kneeling down to work on the seam.

Pansy chuckled. "No, darling, you have to bring a date. How about Viktor Krum? The tabloids are convinced that you're secretly dating."

Hermione snorted. "Journalistic swill. I haven't heard from Viktor for months. I suppose he got tired of waiting."

"What a shame, he's quite the eligible bachelor."

With a shrug, Hermione admitted, "We don't have the chemistry. It was exciting during the war, with the secret flirty letters and all, but take all that away and it's just not there."

"Obviously, since he has the emotional capacity of a large piece of rock."

"Draco!" Pansy shrieked at the unexpected intrusion. "That's not very nice! And no one's meant to see the dress before the wedding!"

"Looking good, Parkinson," commented Malfoy with a smile. "Not bad, Granger."

A _genuine_ smile. Hermione felt herself smiling back. "Thanks, Malfoy. I'll be right with you, I just need to help Pansy with the dress-"

"Don't worry, I can manage. I'm sure Draco has a lot of work for you, considering how many girls he will have to try out before he picks out one for the wedding."

Malfoy scowled. "Shut up and go, Parkinson."

"I love you too, darling," replied Pansy, giving him a peck on the cheek and then Hermione's. "I'll leave the dress in your room and see myself out when I'm done."

The bedroom door closed with a thud and Hermione moved around briskly, tidying up her work desk. "Right, Malfoy, what can I do for you today?"

A brown paper bag appeared under her nose. She stared at it in confusion.

"Cookie?"

Hermione blinked. Once, then twice. Did Draco Malfoy just ask her if she wanted a cookie?

"Um, yes, sure, what cookie is it?" she replied at long last, not knowing where to look. Her eyes settled awkwardly on his tie, which was navy blue today.

"Red velvet."

"Oh I _love_ red velvet," she said, just a tad too gushingly.

Her eyes went up a few inches and registered the half-smile on his sarcastic lips.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked abruptly, spinning around towards the kitchen. "Some tap water? Oh wait," she stopped, and looked over her shoulder with a small smile. "I forgot, you only drink Perrier."

He smiled back.

* * *

Draco leaned back in the armchair, watching Granger sketch on a levitated sketchpad, her brow scrunched up in concentration.

Blaise had not been wrong in his observations. He was wrong about the part of him liking her, _of course_, but not about the fact that Draco would spend a couple of hours in Granger's studio every week.

It was some kind of funny truce. They never talked about the exposé, which surprised Draco. He had expected the crone to nag for a reason for why he did it, but she had not. She'd just taken the olive branch he graciously extended without any incessant probing, wiping the slate clean. Now he was a legitimate customer of her business, and that was that. Simples.

It was raining and he had been drinking Firewhisky when he sent off that owl in the small hours of that morning. He'd watched the owl fly into the dark of the night and his drunken self had congratulated himself on doing the right thing.

_The right thing_. What a mind numbingly dull reason for doing anything, but there you go. Alas, most truths in life were mundane.

"So, is it true that you have a shortlist of women to choose from for the wedding?"

Draco put on a cocky smirk. "Of course. I can't be careless about this, I'm the best man."

Granger did not reply for a few moments, seemingly engrossed in some small detail on the sketchpad, before replying, "Fair enough. What designer are you wearing then?"

He shrugged. "I haven't given it much thought. Do you make suits?"

She looked up. "I learned how to in tailoring class, but I haven't made a men's suit myself."

"Would you like to make one for me?" he asked.

"I could, it might involve some trial and error though."

"That's alright."

"Why don't we start now? I'm finished with the sketch." With a flourish, she ripped off the page and handed it to him. "A floor-length gown for Bridget."

Draco nodded his thanks, quickly scanning the sketch. He had to give her credit, she delivered exactly what he asked for every time. He folded it up and tucked it into a pocket. "Seems adequate to me, but I'll show it to Bridget and see if she has anything to say about it."

She nodded, and said sternly, "Final draft by tomorrow, 3 pm. I have to start on the dress if she needs it by next Monday."

With a wave of her wand, the sketchpad and pencils stacked themselves neatly on the bookshelf on the far end of the living room, and a tape measure floated over to them on a meandering course.

"Doing things the Muggle way, huh?" remarked Draco.

Granger grabbed one end of the tape measure and uncoiled it. "Of course. Now, take your jacket off."

"Should I take off my shirt too?" he asked with a wink as he slid his jacket off his shoulders.

Oh shit. Did he just wink?

Granger shot him a cool look and said, "That won't be necessary, Mr Malfoy. Stand still now."

She moved behind him and measured his shoulders first, standing on tip toe as he was a good bit taller than her.

"Have you planned Blaise's bachelor party yet?"

"Not yet, it's been busy in the office."

"Just have one at the office."

Draco snorted. "Granger, I can't have expensive strippers loitering around the office. What would become of my company's reputation?"

Moving around him to scribble down his measurements on a small notepad on the table, she snorted right back. "As if you have a reputation to salvage."

"I resent that. And I'll have you know that I happen to separate business and pleasure quite capably, Granger."

"Yes of course. What was its name again... oh right, Marie? Are you telling me you never slept with her?" she asked loftily, popping a chunk of the red velvet cookie into her mouth and washing it down with a mouthful of milk.

"Come, Granger, don't be such a wise arse."

Her eyes crinkled in what must have been amusement as she set the mug down. "Alright, let's do your chest measurements now- _what in the name of the seven hells are you doing_?"

Draco sighed with exaggerated chagrin, neatly gripping her chin. "Calm down, Granger, you have a milk moustache."

He carefully ran his thumb over the bow of her lips, which was coated in milk. Up, down, up down. He wiped his thumb on his sleeve. "All done."

He smirked at the faint blush of her cheeks as she gave him a muttered thanks. This smirk, however, faltered when she wordlessly reached out and wrapped his arms around him. In his panic, he nearly asked her what in Merlin's name she was doing, when he realised that he was measuring his chest.

His eyes fell onto the top of her head. It was such a bizarre sight. He'd never seen Granger from this angle before. And he could smell her shampoo...

"Malfoy!"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright? You look a bit out of it," she remarked, giving him a pointed look. She turned around to make a note of his measurements.

"No I'm fine-" he insisted.

Until she dropped on her knees.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

She was hovering just... There. He knew she was going to measure his trouser length, but _Merlin's balls_. You'd think a prude like Granger would be more aware of how suggestive the position was, but it looked like the artist was blind to such trivial awkwardness when it came to her craft.

Granger started on the outer seam. She could've just gone from point-to-point with the tape measure, starting at his hips and ending at his ankle, but _no, _not Granger. She had to smooth the tape measure firmly all the way down his leg with her palms before stopping at the ankle.

The hairs on the back of his neck pricked hotly and uncomfortably.

He started to panic when he thought about the inner seam.

He watched as she hummed casually, twisting back to scribble his measurements. Turning back, she pushed her hair out of her face and started reaching out for his inseam...

He stumbled back. Very quickly and inelegantly.

"I have to go Granger. I - _ahem _- I forgot I have a meeting."

Unfazed, Granger got on her feet with a shrug. "No problem, you can come back later, I probably don't need more than two weeks to finish your suit anyway. By the way, here are the dresses you ordered. You'll have to carry them, _don't_ shrink them, it will mess up the beading."

Granger shoved the dresses into his hands and peered at him from underneath her bangs. "Are you quite sure you're alright, Malfoy?"

"For the hundredth time, Granger, yes I am!" he snapped, a bit too loudly.

A dark scowl clouded her face over, and she ground out through gritted teeth. "Fine. Excuse me for asking." She took a big gulp of milk and slammed the mug onto the table when she was done.

She got a milk moustache again. Draco stared at it, wanting to wipe it away like he did a few minutes ago. Instead, he squared his shoulders, spun on his heels and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

A/N: Hello readers! Univeristy life is officially over for me, and here I am finishing up this story. It's nearly 4am here now, but I am determined to publish this before I go to bed! I hope you enjoyed it, it got a bit cheeky towards the end, and it's about time as well. I will be working hard on the next chapter, keep your eyes peeled for an update much quicker than the previous ones :)


	17. No

Chapter 17: No

Be able to decline a date so gracefully that the person isn't embarrassed that he or she asked. - _Marilyn vos Savant_

* * *

Summer was finally gracing London with its elusive presence. The sun was out, the clouds were fluffy, and it was lovely and green at Lincoln's Inn Fields.

A white paper bag swung from Hermione's fingers as she strolled along looking for a spot to sit. She had just grabbed a quick coffee with a friend from Central St Martins who was now working for Topshop (and had incredibly short lunch breaks), and her rumbling stomach was looking forward to eating her sandwich.

Swiveling her gaze about, she spied a suspiciously familiar mop of blond hair above a crisp white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal pale forearms. The head turned sideways and there was no mistaking the high cheekbones and the straight nose. She thought about turning around and walking the other way - he had been acting a bit distant since that time he bought her the red velvet cookie - but Hermione had never been a fan of eating alone when she had the option.

Squaring her shoulders, she called out, "Malfoy!"

He twisted around and gave her a small smirk. "Granger."

The grass crunched under her ballet flats as she walked towards him. "Mind if I joined?"

He swept his hand in a welcoming gesture. "Please, sit down."

"Thanks," she said with a somewhat cautious smile, making herself comfortable opposite him. She unloaded her sandwich and muesli yogurt next to his coffee and half-eaten panini.

"So, what brings you to Muggle London, Malfoy?" she asked conversationally, folding her legs neatly and smoothing her dress out.

"Business. Some wizarding lawyers are based around here," he replied and took a bite of his panini.

"Ah I see. Needed to draw up more contracts for unsuspecting new hires?"

He smirked as he chewed. "No, actually. It's for a merger."

Her interest piqued, but she caught herself before she probed him for more answers. It was confidential after all, she would assume. But, darn it, it was a sunny day, and she felt like chatting, even with Malfoy, so she went ahead and asked, "What merger? I don't remember seeing anything in the papers recently."

"It's still in the pipelines, obviously."

"Tell me about it," she said, unwrapping her sandwich.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her. "Alright, as long as you don't go mouthing to the papers."

"Aren't you aware of the fact that I'm not really in love with the papers right now? Why do you think I hang out in Muggle London so much?" As an afterthought, she added half-jokingly, "They haven't stopped hounding me since you ousted me."

He actually chuckled at that. "I heard it hasn't served you that badly at all, Granger. Stop moaning."

Hermione nodded. "True. Orders have gone through the roof. I'll have to hire a couple of assistants soon."

"Need any help with the hiring? I know the best headhunters in the business."

She shook her head. "No thanks, I prefer looking myself."

"I'm sure if you posted an ad in the paper right now, _thousands_ of people will show up at your door by dinner time," he drawled sarcastically.

"Why thank you, I'll take that eye roll as a compliment," she replied, smiling despite herself.

He grinned. "I see you're finally fluent at reading my body language."

"An eye roll is technically not body language," she retorted. "But since you have your jacket off and you're sitting with your legs crossed at the ankles on the grass instead of a throne made of ice, I deduce that you're feeling quite at ease today. _So,_ tell me about the merger."

Malfoy huffed. "You're not going to give up are you?" At her head shake, he held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll tell you. I'm buying a restaurant."

Hermione furrowed her brows, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears as a breeze blew past. "A _restaurant_?"

"Don't look so perplexed, Granger. And yes, a restaurant. It's where you sit down and have a nice meal with a glass of wine. It's called Le Garçon."

"Le Garçon? Isn't that a Muggle restaurant?" She mused, and before long it dawned on her. "Oh no, it's Ron's favourite restaurant! He's going to have a fit when he finds out."

"My ultimate goal in life - annoying the Weasel," declared Malfoy, curling his lips into a deliberately evil smile.

She shot him a disapproving glare. "Why a restaurant, though?"

"I invest in whatever makes an outstanding return, and this place has incredibly high turnover for a place so small. And they want to grow, it's been completely private so far so they need a backer. It's a win-win situation," he finished by lifting his coffee cup and mouthed "cheers", before taking a long drink.

"Interesting. I didn't realise wizarding companies can buy up Muggle companies."

"There's a mechanism in place and laws, of course, but it can be done," he explained. "It's complex, with the Statute of Secrecy and all, which is why I'm here looking for a good lawyer today."

"Is this your first Muggle merger?"

He nodded. "It's a learning curve. But it is a good business opportunity. The Pound is expected to strengthen a good deal against the Galleon in the next few years, so now is the time to act."

Hermione couldn't help the bark of laughter at his seriousness. "Look at you, the business mogul."

He winked. "I'm not the richest wizard for nothing."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course. Richest wizard, the most eligible bachelor, for how many years straight now?"

"I didn't think you read _Witch Weekly_."

"I don't," she insisted. "But Ginny does, she's addicted to it. So tell me, does your PR agent get a bonus every time you win a magazine award?"

"Believe it or not I don't have PR, I do it myself," he boasted jokingly, puffing up his chest and turning his nose up.

She humoured him with a slow, sarcastic applause. "Maybe you can do some marketing for my business then."

"I thought I already was," he said, finishing his panini with a huge bite. "All my dates have been wearing your dresses and the papers have been loving it."

She cocked her head to one side. "Oh, I didn't realise that was for my benefit."

He shrugged. "They're nice dresses. I like my dates to look nice."

She smiled. "Thank you. That's really nice of you to say. And for buying my dresses, even though they're not for yourself. I should start a loyalty scheme just for you."

"And what do I get as a loyal customer?"

"Hmmm, let's see. A free dress after you buy ten?"

He jutted out his bottom lip as if in consideration, then nodded. "That's fair. How many have I bought so far?"

"Let's see," she dragged the words out, brushing her palms on the warm grass. "There's the green one, the ball gown, the skanky one -" at which Malfoy snorted. "- I'd say nine."

"Alright then," he said, leaning back on his elbows. "I'll buy the tenth dress for the charity auction I'm attending next week."

"Okay. And the free dress?"

He looked at her square in the eyes, and said smoothly, "I'm getting it for you."

Hermione frowned, confused. "_What_?"

"So you can wear it when I take you out for dinner."

Her first instinct was to burst out laughing, which she did. But the offended scowl on his face stopped her. Her eyes widened and she stuttered awkwardly, "Um, you- you're serious?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Hermione was glad she had her sunglasses to hide behind, or he'd clearly see the panic in her eyes right now. Was he asking her out? On a _date_? Merlin's beard was this the last position she thought she'd ever be in.

"You're taking an awful long time to reply," remarked Malfoy dryly.

"I"m sorry," she blurted out. "But uh I'm just thinking... no. Thanks, but no thanks, I mean."

He blinked, as she just spoke to him in Portuguese. The facade came back into place quickly though, and he shrugged casually, turning away to look somewhere into the distance. "No problem, I'll just save the dress for someone else then."

She couldn't help the frown that creased her brow, but she quickly smoothened it out. That was _exactly_ why she wouldn't have dinner with Malfoy. Ever. She didn't need to be one of his interchangeable dinner dates. Arsehole.

She forced a tight-lipped smile. "That might be best. I don't think I'll look nice in one of my own dresses anyway."

He frowned, looking at her as if confused, but said nothing.

The silence was painfully obvious after the continuous flow of conversation they had shared, and Hermione finished the rest of her sandwich quietly.

Picking up his coffee and his empty panini wrap, Malfoy got onto his feet gracefully, and nodded at her. "I'll see you later, Granger."

He turned around to leave, and her eyes naturally gravitating upwards towards his... "Malfoy, wait!"

He stopped and half turned. "Yes, Granger?"

"You got grass on your... you know."

He raised an eyebrow as if asking if she'd been looking at his arse and she flushed. He petted away the green tufts and half-smiled at her, then walked away through the throngs of picnickers.

* * *

"You said _what_?!"

They were on Ron's little balcony that overlooked a communal garden, crowded around a small round table with four glasses of chilled rosé sitting on top. The fact that Ginny and Harry hadn't even settled on a date for the wedding didn't deter Ron from going into a frenzy of cooking and testing dishes for the reception.

"I said _no_," repeated Hermione around a mouthful of salmon mousse tartlet.

"You said _no_?! Are you crazy, Hermione Jean Granger?!"

"Who said no?" chimed in Harry, who had nipped into the kitchen to get another bottle.

"Hermione," answered Ginny, incredulity highlighting every feature of her face.

"What to?" asked Ron, re-appearing with a fresh plate of more fancy finger food.

"Malfoy asked her out for dinner and she said no!"

"Ginny!" gasped Hermione, reaching over to pinch her lightly on the arm. "That was uncalled for!"

She brushed Hermione's hand away and _tsk_ed. "Oh, relax, I told them that you snogged."

Ron made a face as he sat down. "Blugh! Thanks Gin, hearing about it once was enough. So gross."

Harry laughed and pulled his chair closer to the table. "Wow, he actually asked you out on a date?"

Hermione shrugged, in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. "I don't even know if it was meant to be a date. He said _dinner_. Could be a friendly dinner I guess?"

Ron, who had meanwhile stuffed his face with the remaining tartlets, pointed out sagely. "'Mione, you do realise that no guy asks a girl out for dinner unless it's a date."

"For your mother's sake, Ron, chew before you speak!" snapped Hermione. "And it doesn't matter! I said no. Can we _please_ talk about something else?"

Ginny snorted. "_I'd_ say yes, and I'm engaged." At Harry's hurt puppy look, she rolled her eyes and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "Oh come off it, Potter, it's not like he asked me!"

"Right, can we shut up for a moment and try this batch now?" cut in Ron impatiently, stacking the fresh plate on top of the empty one. "We have here seared foie gras and avocado sushi, savoury cheese mini cupcakes and lasagna cubes."

"Well, there's nothing here I can eat except for the cupcakes!" complained Hermione, picking up one and made a face. "And it's made out of _cheese_?"

Ron seemed to grumble "vegetarian" under his breath, and said loudly, "Fine, fine, more vegetarian options on the menu then."

"Mmmmm. This is really good, Ron," complimented Ginny, who had just tried the sushi. "So, Hermione. How exactly did you say no to Malfoy?"

"I think I said - thanks, but no thanks."

She frowned when the three collectively winced and made noises that sounded like "ouch".

"That's _harsh_, 'Mione," commented Harry with a swig of rosé.

She nearly choked on the cupcake. "Harsh? It's Draco 'evil with a capital E' Malfoy. He can go out with anyone else in the world. As if he would ask me out if he didn't have a hidden and twisted agenda."

"Do you know how hard it is for a guy to work up the courage to ask a girl out?" asked Ron, seemingly having ignored everything she just said.

So she rolled her eyes. "It's Malfoy. I'm pretty sure he's had way too much practice."

"At the end of the day, he's just a guy Hermione," replied Ron, and both Harry and Ginny muttered in agreement.

Hermione couldn't help but stare, mouth open, at her childhood friends. "Are you guys _seriously_ telling me off for turning him down?"

"Well, not _exactly_," said Ron, holding his thumb and index finger together as if to pin down his point. "I say bravo, 'Mione. But as a guy, I feel for him."

Ginny piped up. "But why did you turn him down anyway? You snogged him, you're obviously attracted to him."

"Gin, have you already forgotten what he did to me?"

"Yeah, but what has he done _for_ you after? He's more than made up for it if you asked me."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Maybe it's a PR ploy. A heroic act thing."

"No one knows it's him, other than you. _Witch Weekly_ have been trying for weeks to find out who's behind the leak but to no avail," argued Ginny.

"I have a distinct feeling that you guys are defending him."

Harry shook his head and reached across the table to pat her hand. "We're not defending him, we just think that maybe you should go out on a date with him."

"But it's Malfoy!"

"You know, if you've got offers for dating piling in, that would be a valid argument," teased Ron, which earned him a slap on the back of his head.

"When was the last time you went out with anyone Mione?" asked Ginny.

"An embarrassingly long time ago," she admitted.

"Then go on the bloody date. It's not like he's asking you to marry him."

"_Then_ you can say no," declared Ron. "Might as well get a free dinner in the meantime."

Harry nodded. "Totally. I wonder what a millionaire eats for dinner."

"What's the point though? It's not like he'll start going out with me. He's a complete commitment phobe."

"Ha!" exclaimed Ginny, shoving a finger in Hermione's face. "I get it! You're scared that if you went out with him you'll fall in love with him!"

Hermione scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Gin! I mean, when I said no, he just turned around and said he'll take someone else instead."

Spreading his hands out in a gesture that could only mean _duh_, Ron asked, "What did you expect him to do? Kiss your feet and grovel?"

"Well, no, but... would've been nice if he tried harder."

All three chorused. "Women."

"Hey!"

"Look, it was meant to provoke jealousy, and it worked," said Harry.

A short silence fell upon them as they all sipped their wine.

"This is actually nice, we haven't talked about relationships for a while," commented Ginny.

"That's because 'Mione and I are too busy for meaningless dating and you two are getting hitched."

Harry chuckled. "Ha! How bloody boring will our talks be when all of us are married."

"Okay, guys, so what am I supposed to do?" cut in Hermione.

Putting her glass down emphatically, Ginny asked, "Answer me this. Do you find him attractive?"

"Yes."

Ron and Harry both fake gasped, and she blushed.

"Do you want to shag him?"

"Ginny!"

"I'll take it as a yes then. Then go have a dinner with him. If you're lucky he might sleep with you."

"But he's not going to ask again now."

"Of course not. _You_ go ask him."

Hermione nearly dropped her glass. "_What_?!"

"Least you could do after you were so rude to him," reasoned Harry.

"I wasn't rude!" she insisted. As much as she hated to admit it, her palms were getting sweaty with panic, and there was nothing she wanted to do more than to tickle Ginny until that smug grin slid off her face.

Ron wiggled his eyebrows. "Come on, don't chicken out now, 'Mione."

With a withering look at her friends, she sighed, slammed her palms on the table and stood up in determination. "Fine. I'll go. Wish me luck."

While she was wrapped up in Harry and Ginny's arms and amidst wishes of good luck, Ron dashed into the kitchen. "No don't go yet! You have to try this first..."

* * *

The espresso machine whirred and purred as Draco stood next to it, poring over the first draft of the contract he picked up at Chancery Lane earlier that afternoon.

You know, before Hermione Granger barged in on his lunch at the park.

The strong black coffee trickled leisurely into the espresso cup and he hummed contently at the aroma. He needed to get through this dead weight of boring legal jargon tonight and he would be needing more than one espresso.

Downing it in one go, he replaced the cup on the machine and restarted it for another.

Draco frowned at the niggling voice at the back of his head. _Thanks, but no thanks._ He didn't know what madness drove him to ask Granger out for a dinner. No, that was a lie, he knew exactly why. It had been building up for a while now, and today he decided to go for it.

Well, look where it got him. Kicked in the balls, figuratively.

With a loud sigh, he fell heavily onto the sofa. It was a freaking warm night, and he leaned over to grab his wand to open the windows. Propping his feet up on the coffee table, he rolled the legs of his pajamas bottoms up to his knees, plopped the binded document on his thighs and started reading.

Slow minutes trickled by, and he was starting to sweat. With an impatient growl, he tugged his t-shirt over his head and flung it onto the floor after rubbing his slightly damp chest with it.

Halfway through the Merger Agreement, a knock on his door sent him jumping out of his skin. He glanced at the clock. Who the fuck would come knocking at one in the morning?

He groaned inwardly at the thought that it was one of his booty calls. But his wand, which was charmed to glow blue if any of his casual affairs were around, lied there harmlessly. He sighed and got up. Must be Blaise getting cold feet, with the wedding only two weeks away...

"Why are you _always_ half naked when you answer the door?"

Draco stared. How this woman always managed to catch him off guard was beyond him. Making a quick recovery, he flexed for good measure and retorted, "Because you always knock after midnight."

He felt one of his pant legs fall back down to his ankle, but it would have been too awkward to bend over and roll it up again. So he just stood there, one pant leg up and one down, not sure what to say.

Granger wasn't making it easier either. He noticed that she was wearing the same modest sundress she had on this afternoon, but with a cardigan on top. She was chewing her bottom lip and staring at the door frame.

"What's up, Granger?" he said at long last through gritted teeth.

Her eyes snapped to attention, and let go of her bottom lip, which was now red and gently swollen. "Um, before, you know, at the park...?" she trailed off, tilting her head to one side.

Great, she _had_ to bring it up again.

"What about it?" he asked, keeping his voice disinterested, but the back of his neck prickled with what felt alarmingly like embarrassment.

And Malfoys were _never_ embarrassed.

After a short pause, Granger blurted out. "Do you want to go to dinner with me?"

He was pretty sure his eyebrows went above his hairline. Well, _that_ he didn't expected. He more or less croaked, "What... _now_?"

She smiled prettily, seemingly reassured by his less than suave answer. "Yes, I know a place."

"A place that's open at 1 in the morning?" he asked, teasingly skeptical.

"_Yes_, Malfoy," she replied with an eye roll. "Now go put some clothes on before I change my mind."

His lips twitched as he opened the door wide. "Come on in. I won't be two seconds."

His feet wanted to run, or at least power walk very rapidly towards his bedroom, but he managed to keep a steady swag until he walked through the door. Closing it behind him, he crossed the room in seconds and threw the wardrobe doors open to look for something to wear.

Granger asked him out. Him. This was un-fucking-believable. He allowed himself a macho air punch and and threw in a jig for good measure before digging deep into his clothes. Right, what the fuck were you meant to wear to a dinner at 1 am?

Two minutes later, his reflection in the mirror, wearing a thin blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black jeans, winked cheekily at him and gave him two thumbs up. "I'd lick you right up if I were her, mate. Have fun!"

Granger was looking out of the floor-to-ceiling window when he came back into the living room, her small hands pressed up against the surface, staring at the lights below. She was leaning so close that he could see her eyelashes brush against the glass.

Then she spotted his reflection and she turned around with a smile. "Ready?"

He nodded and said, "Yes."

But, if Granger had made him cross his black heart and hope to die, what he _really_ meant was... _Sweet Merlin Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God - YES_.

* * *

A/N: I updated in 10 days! I hope you're happy about this! I had to type up a chapter before all the packing and moving gets in the way. Quite a conversational piece this time - I loved writing the scene with the four of them - but rest assured there will be more action in the next chapter! And just a short note, I realise that there are no lawyers in the books, but for the purpose of this story let's assume there are.

By the way, I just found out that this story has gotten over 108,000 views! This is absolutely mind-blowing, thank you so much for being awesome, readers! And just to try something new,**I'm going to send a sneak preview of the next chapter to everyone who reviews**. Guest reviewers, try to leave an email address so you guys don't miss out!

**I am also considering finding a beta or two**, and I have no idea how I get around doing that. But if you're interested and are an experienced Dramione shipper, **please get in touch** and we'll see if we can work something out!

I can't wait to finish the next chapter - it will be the chapter you've all been waiting for! As always, thanks for reading :)


	18. Sundae

Chapter 18: Sundae

Try to cut back. Leave the cherry off your Hot Fudge Sundae. - _Garfield_

* * *

"There is so much bloody cream on this thing!"

Hermione sighed at his complaint, and demanded, "What's wrong with cream, Malfoy?"

"Nothing, except that I hate it. And there's no way around it to get to the good stuff."

"For Merlin's sake. Just grow up and eat it, then, if you're so desperate to get there."

He sniffed snobbishly. "Why don't _you_?"

"... I don't like cream either."

Malfoy gave himself a face palm. "Well, isn't this is a bit of a fail. Look at the brownies and ice cream just laughing at us from underneath the barricade of whipped cream."

Hermione blinked longingly at the sundae, then said, "Okay, let's get rational about this. Let's just move the whipped cream somewhere."

Picking up his spoon, he concurred, "That should work. Let's go, Granger."

Both carefully spooned into the obscene mountain of cream and their spoons clanked when they met in the middle. Malfoy looked up and said, "Ready, Granger? Okay, lift! And go right... Yes!"

"Um, where do we move it exactly, Malfoy?" asked Hermione as they just hovered over the middle of the table. Stalemate.

Malfoy glanced left and right at the completely empty table, and shot her a disarming grin. "We really didn't think this through, did we?"

She couldn't help but giggle like a silly schoolgirl. "The two brightest minds in Hogwarts, bested by whipped cream. Now that's a headline."

"Drat. The ice cream is melting!"

"Just eat it, Malfoy!" she pressed, exasperated.

"_No_. You can't make me, you witch!"

"Don't be a pansy!"

Being the wiseass that he was, Malfoy wagged his index finger at her. "Tut tut, Granger, Pansy wouldn't appreciate that."

Ignoring him, she simply shoved her spoon straight into his mouth, taking him completely by surprise, and smeared the wall of whipped cream all over his lips and nose.

She held her breath for a second, fully expecting Malfoy to throw a hissy fit. But, silently, he just licked all the cream around his mouth and swallowed with a grimace. His tongue then darted out and swiped at his nose.

"Mmmmmm," he said sarcastically, but he was smiling.

"Wow, do you have a long tongue," she commented, and realised too late how suggestive it was.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and grinned wolfishly. "One of my many attributes, I can assure you."

They were sat in a painfully tacky American diner, deep in the recesses of Islington, which was the local haunt of Muggle students in nearby universities and art colleges. They were hunched over a small table in a booth by the window lit up by neon lights, their knees touching, with only the tall sundae glass between their faces.

Unperturbed by the comment, Hermione scooped into the sundae and spooned out a big chunk of brownie and vanilla ice cream. Malfoy watched with a lopsided smile as she swallowed.

"What?" she asked.

"Just imagining you sitting here having artsy discussions with your fellow fashion designers. Did you talk about Cristobal Balenciaga and the contribution of Yves Saint Laurent to the androgynous woman whilesmoking roll-ups?"

Her eyes widened. "You know Cristobal Balenciaga?"

"I'm well-versed in most spheres of human knowledge," he replied loftily.

"Well, actually, we mainly crashed this place for late night hot dogs after a night out," admitted Hermione.

Malfoy gave a bark of laughter. "Granger on the lash?"

Hermione gave him a pointed look as he took a generous spoonful of the sundae. "If you're going to give me a lecture about moral superiority again, I _swear_ I will make you regret it."

"I remember precisely what happened the last time I lectured you - I'll be the first to admit it wasn't unpleasant," said Malfoy with a meaningful grin.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of the spat turned into a brief but enjoyable make out session on Malfoy's sofa.

"Well, it was a fun time," she protested. "After the war, I mean. Suddenly I didn't have a care in the world and no one knew who I was in Muggle London. They were the best years of my life."

He nodded in understanding. "I could imagine."

"What did _you_ do after the war?" asked Hermione in semi-deflection. "I mean I read the headlines - well, everyone did - but I don't know the details."

"You want the details?"

She shrugged. "Why not? We have all night."

Malfoy shifted in his seat, as if making himself comfortable before he told his story. "Alright. A brief history of my post-war life. I shagged a lot of women when it came out in the papers that I switched to the Light during the war and was as much a hero as Potty and Weasel. I shagged more women when I managed to get my inheritance back. I shagged even more women when I made a success of my business. So there you go." He finished, spreading his hands out, palms up in flourish.

"Fascinating," she commented dryly.

"Wasn't that interesting, to be honest," he joked. "And you?"

"I told you, I went to university."

"Well, something obviously happened to propel you in that direction. I remember you wanted to go into the Ministry and do something about house elves. Shacklebolt was keen to offer you a position, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but I thought it's pretty obvious why I did what I did."

"I want to hear it from the horse's mouth," he insisted with a wink.

She smiled. "Well, you remember the whole media furor after the War. It was... suffocating. They followed me everywhere, and I mean everywhere - it didn't help that someone leaked the love letters between me and Viktor. And obviously, there was the whole thing about my parents."

His face was set in a serious frame as she trailed off. "How are they now?"

"Oh, very well, thank you. They still live in Australia, they got used to it and everything. But obviously I've taken off the False Memory Charm," she paused, hesitating if she should say any more. "I mean, it hasn't been exactly the same ever since, even though theoretically the charm is fully reversible. But I'm just glad they are doing well."

She looked up and Malfoy was staring at her with an unfathomable look on his face, and he went on to say something completely unexpected. "I'd like to meet them some day."

Hermione chuckled. "You? Draco Malfoy wants to meet my parents?"

"Why not? I have to meet the people who produced Hermione Granger," he teased easily. "Besides, I've always wanted to go to Australia, might as well crash at theirs. _And_ I'm great with parents."

She couldn't help the snort that slipped out, and at Malfoy's offended scowl, she said quickly. "It just doesn't sound like you get much experience, since you're more into casual shagging."

Licking his spoon clean, he tapped it on the half-empty sundae glass. "Believe it or not, I've had a couple of serious goes."

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really? How were the papers not all over that?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he replied smoothly. "I know how to keep things secret if I wanted to."

"So... who were these forgotten women who never graced the front page?"

One corner of his mouth tugged upwards. "Hermione Granger wants to know about my love life? If I didn't know better I'd think you're jealous."

She kicked his shin under the table. "You wish. Just getting to know you better, Malfoy."

"Alright. There was this half-blood I met after the War. We dated for a year or so."

"Wow! Draco Malfoy in a long-term relationship?" she gasped in faux outrage. "Why did it end?"

He paused briefly, then said. "She died. In a car crash, actually, while she was visiting her Muggle family."

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh God. I'm so sorry I asked, Malfoy."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Not many people know - just Blaise and Pansy, actually." Spooning into the sundae again, he directed the conversation to her. "So, is your dating history as tragic as mine?"

"Well, no, it's all rather boring. You know about Viktor. Then I dated a Muggle for two years during university and he broke up with me when we graduated."

"Why?"

"He got bored. I got bored too, I just couldn't be bothered anymore," she explained in monotone.

"When was that?"

"A year and a half ago."

"You haven't dated anyone since?"

"No. I'm not like you," she quipped with a smirk, which he returned.

"Proud of it babe," he shot back.

The sundae was almost gone, and Malfoy scrapped together the last bits of brownie and ice cream. "Last bite?" he asked.

"Okay," said Hermione, picking up her own spoon.

"Nuh-uh," he stopped her, and lifted up his spoon. "Open up, Granger."

They locked eyes as her lips closed around his spoon, and she chewed with a smile.

"Let's take a walk," she suggested after she swallowed. "I'll show you my hood."

"Your _hood_?" he asked in both exaggerated incredulity and amusement at her street talk.

"Yes, Malfoy, my hood."

* * *

Both the floo and Muggle rail networks had closed, and all that was left was the Muggle night bus, which took an hour to get back to Hermione's flat. His jacket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders and they were engaged in non-consequential banter as they slowly approached her flat.

"So, did dinner meet your sky-high expectations?"

Malfoy set his lips in an haughty pout and nodded nonchalantly. "The cream was the worst bit. But to their credit, the brownies were crunchy on the outside and deliciously warm on the inside. The ice cream was average, but the vanilla flavour complemented the sundae's palette perfectly."

"Prat," she joked with a roll of her eyes as they came to a halt outside the door of her building. "How are you getting back to your place?"

"I'm calling my driver," he answered.

"You're telling me we didn't have to wait half an hour for that night bus?!"

He smiled. "I enjoyed it."

Hermione looked down as she felt her cheeks flush at his genuine tone. Slowly, she slid his jacket off her shoulders and handed it to him. "Thanks for taking me home, Malfoy."

"You're welcome, Granger."

She gave him a small, shy nod, and the keys jingled when she took them out of her purse. "Well, then..."

He stepped in closer and echoed, "Well, then..."

She held her breath when his nose brushed the corner of her left eye, then slid leisurely across her cheek to bump into her own nos. His gaze slipped from her eyes as his lips whispered over hers. Breathing in deeply, she held still as he gently sucked on her bottom lip, and his hands travelled down her sides to hold onto her hips. Her eyes had closed sometime in between and she was conscious that she was just standing there, her hands at her sides. So she reached up gingerly, her palms finding his chest, and with her fingers curling into his t-shirt, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed him back.

Then he broke away slowly, noses still touching, opened his eyes and smiled. Stepping back fully, his hand slid from her elbows to squeeze her hands. "Good night, Granger."

She couldn't help the smile as she reluctantly untangled her fingers from his. "Good night, Draco."

* * *

Draco wished he was infinitely more busy than he was at the moment. A preliminary meeting regarding a potential joint venture was cancelled, so he had the entire morning free. An unwelcome prospect, actually.

He itched to reach out for a piece of parchment from the drawer in his oaken table and the quill to his right. But it had only been seven hours since he dropped Granger off, and the last thing he wanted was to come off as desperate.

Or overly interested.

The doors were flung open without as much of a knock coming from the other side. Draco didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"So, Mr Malfoy, how was your date last night?"

Draco's eyes snapped up to Zabini's smug face. "How the fuck do _you_ know?"

"I pay your doorman to report any suspicious ongoings to me at all hours of the day."

"I'm going to fire that guy," grumbled Draco.

Zabini made a noise that sounded like _pffffft_ and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "Don't be harsh, Draco. I need to know your comings and goings since I am your press man. And don't worry, no one knows."

"Merlin, I have no privacy whatsoever, do I?"

"Of course not, we're best mates, Malfoy," said Zabini, who proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows. "_So_...?"

"I'm not talking about this, Zabini."

He pouted. "Come on! You're not throwing me a bachelor's party, give me this at least."

Draco sighed. "It's a Muggle tradition, you dimwit. Are you one?"

"It's very much in vogue right now," pointed out Zabini. "As I was saying, since you're not throwing me a bachelor party, the least you could do is tell me how your date went."

Draco sighed heavily. "It was fine."

Zabini arched an eyebrow and tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Tight-lipped. Must have gone well. The last time you went out with a girl you wouldn't stop talking about it, uninvited too, mind you."

"Please get out, Zabini, I'm bored of your pointless chatter."

Undaunted, he pressed on with a grin. "I suppose you'll want to change your RSVP then?"

Draco snorted. "Why would I? It's been one date."

"Are you sure?" he asked with a frown.

"Get. Out."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you to write your love letter. Actually, if you need a poem, Pansy's aunt gave me this terribly sappy book of poetry, I'm sure a little plagiarism wouldn't hurt for a good cause..."

* * *

The oven hummed as it warmed up Hermione's early lunch (a Tesco Value instant vegetarian lasagna). The warm scent of tomatoes and basil made her stomach growl.

Hermione felt restless. She knew Malfoy had a phone, but she was on a Muggle network so she had no idea how to text a magical phone. Not that she had his number anyway. And owling seemed disproportionately significant - like a phone call, which was a bit too much after a first date.

Her pencil drummed on the sketch paper and she sighed. This morning couldn't go any slower. She was working on a recruitment ad because despite what Malfoy said, she was worried that fashion talent in the wizarding world was a bit thin on the ground.

But she had big plans that required more than a one woman show. Custom work was good money and was brilliant at securing loyal customers, but she wanted to go back to her roots - eco-friendly clothes affordable for the masses. Besides, eliminating furs and leather in the strongly traditional fashion world would be an even better challenge.

Her eyes drifted to the roll of parchment paper on her bookshelf and began thinking to herself how different Muggle and wizarding dating etiquette was...

A tap on the window startled her out of her reverie. It was an owl.

* * *

_I heard about this Mexican guy who sells quesadillas out of the back of his caravan in Shoreditch and I'm intrigued. I don't know my way around East London - care to take me there at 7 pm tomorrow? And while you're at it, you might as well stay for dinner. - DM_

* * *

She secretly hoped that she didn't taste like the chorizo quesadillas she just ate a couple of hours ago. But she supposed that she did, since she could still taste the tangy tomato salsa on Malfoy's tongue.

They'd knocked back a few bottles of cider after polishing off the surprisingly good Mexican street food, talking and flirting and touching - more of the latter two as the cider seeped into their systems.

Malfoy had taken her home again, but it was not yet ten o'clock so they took the rail. And oh, right now, he was half on top of her on the sofa, Frenching her quite magnificently while she grasped the back of his neck

He took a shuddering breath and broke away from her gently, a cheeky grin unfolding on his slightly flushed face. "This is bloody good, Granger, but we probably shouldn't go too far."

She nodded, pleased that Malfoy was pacing himself. For _her_. This was more than bizarre. "I must say I'm pleasantly surprised by your self-discipline."

His chuckle reverberated against her chest and he brushed his nose against hers. "I'm flattered." Sitting up, Malfoy pulled her with him until she crashed bonelessly into his chest, an arm wrapped firmly at the base of her waist. "Who would ever have thought we'd be here making out on your couch, Granger?"

"Count yourself lucky," she teased, letting her head loll back against his shoulder, noting in satisfaction that his lips looked like they had been thoroughly kissed.

"What are you doing these few days then?" he asked conversationally, his fingers combing through her hair.

"I'll be busy finishing up Pansy's dress and her bridesmaids', obviously."

"Ah, of course. Five days to go, I can't believe Zabini hasn't run off yet," he said with a snort.

"Of course he wouldn't, any idiot can see how in love they are."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "So, who are you bringing as your date?"

She couldn't help it, but she stiffened out of nerves. _You, hopefully, _she thought to herself, but said instead, "Well, no one. I'll technically be working, making sure the dresses fit and take care of any sartorial emergencies. Pansy has five wardrobe changes throughout the day, so it's a full-time job."

"Bloody hell," commented Malfoy with a laugh.

Perhaps she shouldn't have, but curiosity killed the cat, and she asked, "And who is your date?"

Her heart sank as he shifted uncomfortably. "There's this woman, actually... I mean, it was arranged way before... all this," he stopped and gestured at them both.

"Oh," she said simply, hoping in vain that her disappointment didn't show.

Malfoy tilted her head up by her chin and locked eyes with her. "If I had a choice I'd go solo, but I can't really turn her down now."

"Okay."

Awkward silence.

Malfoy untangled his fingers from her hair and said, "I should go, I got that meeting at 8 am tomorrow."

She nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Her legs felt like lead as she stood up, her head pounding unpleasantly, whether from the cider or the spectacular nosedive in their conversation, she couldn't tell. She quietly opened the door and Malfoy shuffled around her to stand in the doorway.

"I'll see you later?" he said, and leaned in to kiss her.

Feeling stubborn, Hermione angled her face subtly away and he frowned. She forced a smile. "Night Malfoy."

She made to shut the door in his face, but he was too quick for her. "What's this, Granger? If you have something to say, then say it."

"I have nothing to say to you, Malfoy!" she snapped.

"Is this about my date? I mean it, Granger, there's nothing I can do about it."

"It's okay, Malfoy. I don't care, _really_," she stressed, reaching out to give him a platonic pat on the shoulder. This seemed to piss him off.

"You're radiating jealousy," he sneered, crossing his arms.

"Why would I be? We've gone out twice, Malfoy. Let's not make a big deal out of this okay?"

He half turned his head and muttered, "Women."

She cleared her throat loudly. "_Excuse me_?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Nothing, Granger. You're right, it's no big deal. It's nothing. Happy?"

She bristled. What the fuck did he mean by _it's nothing_? Not that she would gratify him by asking. "Yes. I'm ecstatic, actually."

Malfoy gave her a curt nod. "Great. See you at the wedding then."

"Fine," she shot back, but he had already turned to leave, his shoes clicking on the concrete stairs.

She didn't even flinch as the door slammed so loudly that the windows shook.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this in a bit of a hurry as I will be busy moving out of my flat and traveling the next two weeks. Quick note to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last time - over 50 of you! You guys are incredible. A bit of fluff and edge at the same time in this chapter to set us up for the long awaited Zabini-Parkinson wedding. Same as last time, **I will send everyone who reviews a sneak preview of the next chapter****,** but it will be a few days before I send it out. Guest reviewers, I found out that you're not allowed to post your emails in reviews - so sign up for an account so you don't miss out!


	19. Hitched

Chapter 19: Hitched

I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury. -_ Groucho Marx_

* * *

A/N: Quick note here at the beginning to say that this is a mammoth chapter! Longest I've ever written, but it's been a long wait for you guys so here you go, enjoy!

* * *

The mist had yet to melt into the morning air, hanging low over the single cobblestone street that wound its way up the village. Pass empty cottages, the butcher's and the bakery until it reached the elegant abode resting on the highest outcrop of the village, where it had stood for the past four hundred years.

A powerful Muggle-repellent spell had been cast to evacuate this tiny village with population of forty, convinced that they were all taking a big fishing trip for the next two days.

When asked if she felt guilty for essentially lying to the villagers, Pansy sniffed, "I rented the house legitimately, and I offered to pay the villagers to stay away, but they refused. So don't say I didn't try! And don't worry, I rented a fantastic yacht for them. They'll have the time of their lives!"

Hermione herself felt rather guilty for going into the baker's and taking a croissant (or two) that had been freshly baked for that morning, but she didn't think that she'd need any Muggle money, and she'd hate to see the bread go to waste.

She arrived the night before, and had a peaceful night's sleep in her guest room with a beautiful view over the river that sloped down the village in a gentle serpentine. The ceremony was taking in the back garden of the mansion, right by the river, and Hermione could hear the activity as workers rushed to complete the scene.

She paused and watched for a moment. A beautiful stone arch has been erected with the beautiful backdrop of mountains and distant villages, and was now being wreathed in flowers. One man was casting multiple _Geminio_ spells on elegant white chairs on both sides of the aisle, and another was weaving a carpet of petals from his wand.

Finishing up the first croissant, Hermione magically shrunk the spare and tucked it into her jacket pocket. She was going to need the energy this morning - Merlin knew dressing women was probably more work than dressing children.

* * *

All the bloody doors on this corridor looked the same. Faded white frames with ornate door handles, in the typical rustically charming fashion of rural France. So far, he'd barged through five different but equally wrong doors and he still hadn't found Zabini.

Marching past yet another massive vase of sunflowers that Pansy undoubtedly picked out, Draco reached the last two doors on the carpeted hallway. Looking left and right dispassionately, he sighed loudly and reached out to fling open the door on the right without bothering to knock.

"Draco! What are you _doing_?"

He couldn't help the upturn of his lips into a genuine smile. Pansy was standing in front of a floor-length mirror in her wedding dress in the middle of the sun-drenched room, looking absolutely radiant.

"Walked into the wrong room," replied Draco at long last, and in two long strides he'd crossed the room and given her a peck on the cheek. "You look beautiful, Pans."

"Thanks darling," grinned Pansy, giving him a quick hug. "And you thought this day would never come. Proved you wrong, didn't we?"

Draco was about to reply when the door opened again with a click. Granger bustled through, levitating a trail of flowers behind her. "I got the flowers, they were just underneath the baskets... Oh, hi Malfoy."

He nearly winced at the way Granger's grin slid off her face when she spotted him. Nearly.

He gave her a small nod of acknowledgement. "Granger. I'd better go. I need to go help Blaise with his bow tie, you know how useless he is."

Pansy nodded and fluttered her fingers at him, already distracted by the flowers that were now hovering in front of her for her perusal. "Alright, darling. I'll see you at the ceremony!"

Pausing at the door, Draco looked over his shoulder with the intention of catching Granger's eyes for a "see you later".

She wasn't looking.

* * *

"So, how is Kate?"

"Don't know, don't care," answered Draco monotonously, staring out of the French windows in Blaise's room, which happened to be on an entirely different floor of the house.

"Why don't you just tell Hermione why you're going with Kate?" asked Blaise as he shrugged on his starched white shirt.

Draco snorted. "What, that I _have to_ because I want to buy her father's company? Don't think so."

Stopping in front of the mirror to do up the buttons, Blaise said, "It's a better reason than none at all."

"Do you not know Granger? Principle is her bloody middle name. She's allergic to any kind of pandering. And what I'm doing is definitely Grade A pandering."

Blaise arched an eyebrow and stared straight at him in the mirror. "But Draco, pandering is what you _do_. If she can't take that then you're barking up the wrong tree, mate."

"Don't be ridiculous. Pandering is just _one_ thing I do."

"True," agreed Blaise, now tucking his shirt into his dress pants. "Let's see, you also lie, make threats, blackmail, and I'm pretty sure you've had affairs with more than one married woman..."

"For fuck's sake, just get your fat arse over here and let me get that bow tie on you," interrupted Draco with a growl, snatching the said object from the dressing table. "I still don't understand why you don't just transfigure it. It's such a bloody pain in the arse."

Spinning around on his heels, Blaise walked over to the dressing table and sat down with a cocky grin. "Tradition matters, my dear boy. Surely a Malfoy would know that?"

Draco was about to slap the back of his head when the door opened without so much of a prelude. He promptly grinned at the panic in Zabini's eyes as their stares met in the mirror.

"Bugger me," he grumbled before putting on a forced smile. "Mother! How in Merlin's beard you find me?"

"That Granger girl pointed me this way," replied Ms Zabini with a dismissive wave of her bejewelled hand. Draco had only met Blaise's mother a handful of times after she retired from her highflying career as a West Midlands socialite. Still striking in middle age, she flipped her glossy hair over her shoulder and studied her son critically. "Well, there's not much we can do about that hair now, is there?"

"Oh, shut it, mother," grumbled Blaise as he stood up, and gave her a peck on the cheek before enveloping his much smaller mother in a hug. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Pish posh, of course I could make it to my darling son's wedding! Merlin knows I've waited too long for a grandchild!"

"Well, I didn't think it was the right time when you were still busy getting married," replied Blaise smartly, which earned him a sharp slap on the side of his head. "Ow, mother! I was joking! Did you bring Callum?"

"Yes, and you would do well to be nice to him," said Ms. Zabini sternly, before turning to Draco. "Why, Draco, I haven't seen you in years, you look positively handsome!"

"And you are as beautiful as you were when I last saw you on the platform in King's Cross, Ms. Zabini" said Draco smoothly, pressing a closed-lip kiss on the back of her hand, knowing it would wind Blaise up.

Ms. Zabini chuckled. "Such a charmer, why do you never invite Draco over for dinner?"

Blaise grunted. "Alright, that's enough, why don't you go talk to Pansy? I'll see you at the ceremony."

Despite being ushered out of the room, Ms. Zabini managed to blow Draco a kiss before Blaise slammed the door behind her. "Must you do that? It's disturbing!"

"It's funny," corrected Draco.

"I really don't think watching my mother trying to get into your pants is funny, Malfoy."

"It's an acquired taste, Zabini," he winked insolently.

* * *

"Breathe, Zabini, breathe," instructed Draco under his breath.

Blaise had frozen, as stiff as a board, when the gentle music of the orchestra invited all 35 guests of the intimate ceremony to be seated. Among them Draco spotted familiar faces from Hogwarts - Theodore Nott, Astoria Greengrass and even some Gryffindors, including Bill Weasley who was going out with Fleur. A select few papparazi were dotted around the venue, snapping away with their cameras.

"I don't think I've ever been more terrified," admitted Blaise in a low murmur, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"What about when you proposed?"

"Yeah, that kind of cuts it. Except there was no audience and I could've just jumped off a building if she said no."

"Relax, you'll be great. And she won't say no, Pansy loves you," said Draco with uncharacteristic consideration and gave him a firm pat on the back.

Blaise turned to flash him a toothy smile. "_Awwww_, that's so nice, Drakey."

"You're such a wanker."

The master of ceremony was waiting by the arch, and any minute the bridesmaids would emerge from the drawing room. Draco had to admit that he was nervous as well. Irrationally, really, since his only role was to walk Pansy down the aisle.

His eyes scanned the seated crowd, and one head with flowing blond hair that matched his swivelled around with a red-lipped smile.

He smiled back politely.

"Hello Draco," cooed Blaise in a high voice as Kate waved at Draco. "I wanna be your special friend- _oof_! Was that necessary! Feels like you bruised a rib!"

"You deserve it for being such a twat," deadpanned Draco. "I don't have to deal with her and your shit."

Draco's head swung towards the glass doors on the patio as they opened with a quiet squeak, letting Granger out. She was wearing heels today, and she was tip-toeing down the three wide steps trying to make as little noise as possible. He let his eyes sweep from her side-swept updo to the glimpses of leg that peeked out from the slit in her floor-length dress. Appreciatively.

"Close your mouth, mate. You're embarrassing, really."

Draco shot Blaise a glare but did as he told.

Granger walked over to them, hitching the hem of her dress up and gave them a shy smile.

"The bridesmaids are ready," she whispered to Blaise when she got close enough. "So you follow them when-"

"When they've all gone down the aisle, got it," reassured Blaise with a wink.

She turned to Draco, and he noticed that she was wearing makeup today. Her eyes looked nice, lined in soft brown and bronze.

"- _Malfoy_, won't you just pay attention?"

Snapping out of it, he blinked, and took a wild guess as to what Granger was talking about. "And... I walk Pansy down the aisle?"

"Yes, then make sure you stand in such a way that you aren't blocking the cameras."

"I'm sure the photographers are perfectly capable of moving."

"Actually, there are some pretty strict wards set up, so they can only move so much. Just stay out of the way."

The lead cello glided into the first mellow notes of Pachelbel's _Canon in D Major_. The glass doors opened as the violins joined in, and the three bridesmaids - Millicent, Tracey, Daphne - appeared, wearing dusty pink gowns that grazed their ankles.

"Good luck, mate," said Draco with a firm squeeze of Blaise's shoulder.

When Millicent started walking down the aisle, clutching a small bouquet of white and violet magnolias, Hermione shuffled closer to Malfoy and asked quietly, "Why are you walking Pansy down the aisle? Her parents are alive, no?"

"They're estranged," replied Malfoy quietly, his eyes ahead. "Her mother doesn't want her to marry Zabini, and her father is a pushover, so he wasn't allowed to come. He still gives Pansy money, obviously, since it's not cheap being a socialite in London."

"Why not Blaise? He's rich, successful _and_ he's a great guy."

Daphne Greengrass walked down the aisle next, who caught her sister's eye in the crowd and smiled broadly.

Malfoy's eyebrow quirked at Hermione's comment. "You know he's about to get married, yes?" At her evil eye, he said, "His mother is a complete joke, pretty much the laughing stock of rich pureblood housewives. Not to mention she ripped apart some families in the process of re-marrying six times - the pureblood circle isn't that large. And Pansy was meant to marry someone better."

That piqued her interest. "Who?"

He shot her a cocky look. "Me."

Their brief conversation ended when Blaise started his brisk walk, following Tracey Davis who was halfway down the aisle. The poor man was fidgety and visibly nervous, and completely missed the looks of support Malfoy and herself were offering.

Staring at Blaise's back, Hermione decided that she couldn't quite tell if Malfoy was joking or not. However, rumours of an arranged marriage between them were rife back in the Hogwarts days. Before she could figure it out, she realised that Blaise had already reached the end of the aisle, and she turned around to see Pansy waiting by the doors.

A reverent calm befell the garden as all stood and turned to look at the bride. Happy tears stung her eyes, tears that she tried futilely to blink away. The dress looked perfect on her, and she was so utterly happy as the morning sun pooled around her. She felt Malfoy square his shoulders and step forward as Pansy gracefully descended the stairs. She mouthed "thank you" to Hermione as Draco took her hand and placed it on his forearm, closing his palm on the back of her fingers tenderly.

"Ready?" she heard Malfoy ask quietly.

Looking down the aisle, Hermione could see the love in Blaise's eyes even from this distance. She sniffed a little bit more as Pansy nodded with resolve, and declared, "Hell yes."

* * *

The silver and champagne gold balloons hovering close to the arch burst into doves and rose petals as the two shared their first kiss as husband and wife. Draco grinned widely and applauded along with the rest of the crowd, throwing in a wolf whistle for good measure.

"Well done for not stuttering over 'I do', Zabini," he joked, throwing his arms around his best mate for a tight squeeze.

"I'm married!" whooped Blaise when Draco let go, pumping a fist in the air before drawing Pansy close for another kiss. "I love you!"

Giggling, Pansy said, "I love you too, you sappy bastard. Let's go get some champagne!"

Draco chuckled as the newly weds walked back up the aisle, tangled in each other's arms, laughing and greeting friends and family, followed by the bridesmaids. He watched when they reached where Granger was standing, and both encased her in a warm hug.

Who would've guessed Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini would be hugging Hermione Granger like old friends? Pigs must be flying somewhere.

He turned at a tap on his shoulder.

"My, my, what do we have here?" he drawled, a lopsided smile creeping into his face.

"An old friend, you bugger," replied Theodore Nott, holding out a hand that Draco shook. "How have you been, you old devil?"

"Just fine," he said easily. "I heard you moved to Switzerland."

"No taxes, bloody amazing salaries, and Scandinavian women don't live that far away," said Theo by way of explanation, winking at the last part.

"I could've gone without knowing that," said Astoria Greengrass as she joined the duo, leaning close for a kiss on the cheek. "Hello Draco, I've missed you."

"Astoria," smiled Draco. "You look amazing."

"Eat your heart out," his ex-flame half-joked, flashing a pink diamond in his face. "I'm engaged!"

Draco's eyes widened in complete surprise. "Congratulations are indeed in order. Who's the lucky man?"

"Oliver, Oliver Wood."

He frowned almost quizzically. "The Gryffindor Quidditch player? My, your tastes have changed."

She shoved him playfully. "Well, he's out of the country with the Puddlemeres right now, so-"

Theo rolled his eyes. "I can't take this sexual tension any more. Let's go to lunch, shall we?"

"Alright. We have to take those boats," replied Draco, turning around to point to the swan-shaped boats waiting on the water. "Pansy insists on lunching on this tiny islet just down the river."

Theo scoffed. "What in the name of Dumbledore is an _islet_?"

"A small island," replied Astoria with a sigh.

"I just have to speak to someone before I go. Wait for me by the boats."

With that, Draco started to walk towards the house, where most of the guests had congregated and were slowly ferried onto the boats. He craned his neck, and caught sight of Granger, surrounded by Fleur, Weasley and the Patel twins. His feet slowed of their own accord. He knew Fleur well, but the rest-

"Draco!"

He all but cringed as the voice piped up behind him, knowing it could only belong to one person.

"Hello, Kate," he said through gritted teeth as he turned around.

She cocked her head to one side, one shaped eyebrow arched, as if waiting for him to say something.

_Oh right, of course._ He bit the insides of his mouth and said the obligatory, "You look lovely."

To be fair, she did. Wearing a classy red dress that swept the floor and loose blond waves, she was the very picture of glamour. He focused and tried hard to be interested, knowing that the paparazzi were probably fervently photographing their meeting now.

"Thank you," she simpered, clearly pleased with his attention. "Shall we fetch an aperitif before we get into the boats? I managed to get a private one for just the two of us."

Suppressing a sigh, Draco lifted his eyes to see Theo and Astoria waiting with champagnes in hand; then to Granger, who was still chatting away with her mates.

Taking Kate's hand in his, but careful to keep it palm against palm instead of something more intimate, he let her pull them towards the bar. He could hear the irritating pops of cameras as the paparazzi picked up on them.

Turning his head so she wouldn't see him, and not particularly caring if the photographers did, Draco childishly made a face and muttered, "Just my fucking luck."

* * *

The charmed swan boat sailed leisurely down the river, passing by picturesque cottages crowded onto the water front. Hermione was surprised that their balconies had not long collapsed from the sheer weight of the flowers and weeds that grew from pots and hanging bowls.

Fleur sighed dreamily and adjusted her sunglasses. "Ze wedding ees just _so_ romantic. Pansy should plan weddings as a career."

Bill arched an eyebrow, tucking a blond lock behind his girlfriend's ear. "A highly rewarding career choice, I must say."

Hermione's lips quirked at the characteristically sarcastic comment from the more subdued of the Weasley's, but stayed quiet. Savouring the peace of the early afternoon, she drank in the impossibly green scenery in the first blushes of summer.

Sinking deeper into the comfortable pillows, Parvati asked, "Who's the girl Malfoy is with? She looks absolutely fabulous. I must ask her where she got her lipstick."

"You don't know who she is? Really, Parvati, I thought you were the gossip queen," replied Padma, putting on an expression of disbelief.

"And you say it like it's a bad thing!"

"I theenk she's zee daughter of some business mogul," interjected Fleur. She added with wrinkle of her nose. "Teepical choice of Draco's."

"How come _you_ didn't bring a date, Hermione?" asked Parvati chattily. "We saw all those stories about Viktor Krum in the papers a while ago."

"Oh, gods no, we were just friends, and still are," she replied quickly, laughing it off. "I'm single. And since I need to help Pansy change into four other dresses today, I didn't think it would be fun for my date even if I brought one."

Parvati sighed heavily. "I just _hate_ being single. Would you like to go man-hunting some time, 'Mione? Padma refuses to go with me. And all the Gryffindor girls are taken. They are _such _a bore." She whispered the last part conspiratorially, earning a chuckle from everyone on the boat.

Hermione grinned. "That could be arranged."

With a gentle bump against the bank, she realised that they had reached the islet. The boat wobbled as they all stood to admire the scene laid out before them.

"Oh, this is just so sweet!" exclaimed Padma, her palms closing over her heart in a quintessentially girly gesture.

And sweet it was. Two long wooden tables were decked out in white china and sprinkled with what looked like every flower that grew under the sun. Instead of individual chairs, sofas lined the length of the tables, topped with mismatched cushions.

"Climbing into a seat may prove interesting," remarked Bill dryly as he easily hopped onto the grass. "Come on, my love."

Hermione shrieked as the boat wobbled rather violently as both Fleur and Padma launched themselves onto the grassy bank.

"Oh, don't be such babies!" tutted Fleur as she turned back to give Parvati a hand, who was fretting over dirtying her expensive shoes. And suddenly Hermione was rather alone on the rocking boat.

She groaned as she half-crouched, willing the boat to steady itself. "Oh bugger! This is embarrassing." She looked up with flushing cheeks to see her boatmates all standing in an arc, suppressing their smiles rather poorly.

"Come on, 'Mione, brightest witch of our age, surely you can get out of a boat?" teased Parvati.

"The boat's charmed to not flip over, don't worry," said Bill reasonably. "Here, I'll give you a hand-"

Hermione looked down to gather the long hem of her dress in one hand, and reached out with the other, too occupied to notice that whose hand actually tugged her onto the islet a bit too hard. So hard that her left cheek smacked right against the person's chest.

"Ow-" she began to moan, lifting her eyes to chide Bill for the excessive force, but stopped short at Malfoy's amused smirk.

Hermione dropped the hem she was holding onto and rubbed her cheek self-consciously, mumbling, "Heavy-handed much, Malfoy?"

Ignoring her, he turned around and sniffed at the others. "Aren't you lot a helpful bunch?"

Fleur chuckled harmlessly. "Oh, Draco dear, 'ave a sense of 'umour! Bill was about to 'elp 'er up. Come and give me a 'ug!"

Only when Malfoy let go of her hand did she realise he was still holding it. She snatched it back belatedly, curling her fingers into her palms as the old friends hugged, not missing the still wary way Bill eyed the exchange. Catching the Weasley's eye, Hermione smiled reassuringly over the crest of Fleur's head.

A flash of red caught her eye, and her face swung towards Draco's companion for the day. At least a head taller than Hermione, she was imposing to say the least. Squirming, she berated herself silently for feeling uncomfortable.

In fact, she felt like the insecure teenager she once was back in Hogwarts.

Unexpectedly, this woman apparently named Kate caught her gaze and she flashed a brilliant smile - all red lips and perfectly straight teeth. "Miss Granger! Draco promised to introduce me, looks like there's no need now. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Kate Younger."

Slipping her hand in Kate's for a firm shake, Hermione offered a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Kate."

"These are my colleagues from Hogwarts," piped up Draco, staying by Fleur's side. Everyone murmured a 'nice to meet you, Kate'.

"I was just about to tell Miss Granger how much I admire her talent," said Kate with a gracious smile.

"You're really too kind."

"Draco told me about all these dresses you made for him," she continued, with a humorous arch of her eyebrows that made Parvati giggle, and Bill looked outright confused.

Malfoy coughed and looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but didn't. Hermione smiled a little bit. "He is definitely a loyal customer."

"I don't want to be too forward, but in the future if you need a model for any campaigns, I'll be the first to volunteer!"

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Hermione noncommitally. She fancied she heard Fleur mutter to Draco. "Well, I'd theenk _I_ was first in line!"

"Fantastic. Shall we head over to the table now, Draco? I'd like to get that seat _right _under the willow tree..."

* * *

Lunch was drawing to a close. Plates were disappearing with a pop here and there as guests finished up the delicious finale of _Tarte aux Pommes_. Somewhat prophetically, the Slytherins were seated at one table, and the Gryffindors were at the other. Draco quickly glanced over to the latter. Granger had her back to him, but he still saw her profile when she occasionally turned sideways to talk to one of the Patel twins.

Pansy was close to tipsy, bursting into shrieks of laughter with her bridesmaids as if they were still sharing a dorm in Slytherin. Blaise handled his champagne with a bit more aptitude, slurring over his words only every ten minutes or so. Despite the fact that they were talking to completely different sides of the table, their fingers were still tightly laced, and Pansy's giant diamond ring caught the afternoon light brilliantly.

_Disgusting PDA_, thought Draco sullenly.

Truth to be told, Draco was rather bored. He picked churlishly at the remaining bits of the tart when Astoria smacked the back of his hand.

"What?" He snapped defensively at her chiding stare.

"Really, Draco, you could be such a child. Why the moping?"

Astoria's comment garnered the attention of most of the Slytherins at the table, and Draco glowered at them. "Nothing. Just tired, that's all."

"Tired?" Shrilled Pansy. "But it's only three o'clock!"

"No need to shout, Parkinson," grumbled Draco with a wince.

Kate shot him an amused look, and said, "If I didn't know better I'd think you're bored with my company."

"Of course not," he said through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry, Draco has his moodswings," giggled Pansy, which was backed up by an "absolutely" from Astoria. Kate grinned, thoroughly amused.

"Merlin," grumbled Draco, standing up abruptly. His seat immediately disappeared, allowing him to step through the gap before re-appearing.

"Where you off to Malfoy?" called out Blaise.

"Taking a piss in the river," he snapped moodily.

"Flogging your log, you mean," said Theo loudly. "There's a bush down there if you fancy some privacy!"

_What a bunch of idiots_, he thought darkly, intent on catching some minutes of peace before he had to go back. His earlier good mood had dissipated like the sparkling wine at the table, leaving him with a dull, throbbing dissatisfaction. He pinched his nose, grimacing at the thought that the festivities would carry on way beyond midnight before he would be allowed to go to bed.

The grass crunched behind him and his shoulders tensed at the prospect of unwelcome companionship.

He was baffled when he heard a zipper being undone. "No peeking, Malfoy."

Draco groaned at the sound of liquid hitting water. "For fuck's sake, Nott, do you have to do this next to me?"

"What? I thought you were taking a piss. Just trying to be friendly."

"I was joking."

"I didn't find it funny." Finishing up, Theo zipped up and grinned.

"Nor are you," glowered Draco. "What do you want?"

"What, can't I spend some quality time with my mate?" clucked Theo.

"Say what you came to say."

Draco nearly jumped when Theo unexpectedly flicked him on his forehead. "For fuck's sake! What are you, eight?"

"Says the one who is sulking like a child."

"I'm _not_ sulking."

"You look like you sat on a pineapple," said Theo. "Your best friends got married today and you have the most beautiful woman here sitting next to you. Smile a little, you ungrateful bastard!"

"You can have her if you want," said Draco uncaringly.

Nott whistled. "Careful now. You don't want the papers picking that up."

"What?"

"You think I'm dense? Katherine Younger is the heiress to Douglas Younger's fortune. A pretty young thing like her obviously wants her three minutes of fame, what easier way of getting it than coming to a grand wedding with heavy paparazzi presence?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at his friend, who grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He went on. "And I hear there are quite a lot of bids on Younger Senior's business. What's a better way to butter him up for a good deal than giving his precious little girl some publicity? By the way, don't feel the need to bow at my feet for my intelligence, Malfoy."

Well, there was no point in denying the truth. "You've always been frightfully observant," conceded Draco.

Cockily, Nott folded his fingers neatly into his palm and rubbed his nails against his chest, blowing away imaginary dust. "I'm guessing your girlfriend isn't happy about it. Still, that's not an excuse. It's our friends' wedding, pull that pineapple out of your arse and smile a bit."

Twisting his lips into a pout, Draco sighed. "Fine, mum."

They lounged in a comfortable silence for a bit before Theo asked, "You know who I'm going to screw tonight?"

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend. You'd have to point her out to me first, though."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

The day crept away stealthily, and late afternoon - verging on dusk - saw Hermione draped on a hammock in the back garden, her heels abandoned on the ground beneath her. One leg dangled lazily over the side, and she cupped a cold glass of Pimms on her belly.

She had imbibed a bit more than expected, but not as much as Pansy, who was on the hammock next to her, nursing a hot chamomile to regain some sobriety before dinner.

The alcohol had loosened her tongue, and since they were alone, Hermione broke the amiable silence. "I heard something strange today."

"Mmmhmm?" asked Pansy, who had been admiring her wedding and engagement rings.

"Malfoy said... he said you were meant to marry him," she blurted out.

Dropping her hand abruptly, Pansy burst out laughing, and Hermione wasn't sure what that meant.

"So I guess that didn't happen?"

"No, no, I was. My crazy bat of a mother arranged that when we were children, but it was never going to happen. Especially since Draco's parents died and I fell in love with Blaise." Pansy gave her a meaningful look. "So don't you worry, Hermione."

"What?"

"I heard you're dating Draco."

She flushed and hurriedly corrected her. "I'm not. We went on a couple of dates, that's all."

Pansy flashed her a decidedly mischievous grin. "I think that's pretty big news in Draco-land. I can't remember the last time he went on a date that wasn't for the purpose of mass media consumption."

Hermione frowned. _Mass media consumption_? The cogs in her head creaked embarrassingly slowly, weighed down by the alcohol. Her eyes wandered over to Kate, who had changed into a mint green gown for the soiree, then to Draco who was standing next to her, then to the cameras flashing away. Younger, Younger... where had she heard that name?

Her eyes widened. Of course. Younger and Company, the private equity giant.

She must have looked like she was brooding, as Pansy frowned. "I don't know how well you know Draco, but I've known his all his life, through his worst and his best. As bad as it sounds, his business is all Draco has now. He does anything to make sure it does well. And I mean anything. That doesn't make him a bad person, just a pragmatic one."

"I don't think he's a bad person, though he is a right prick at times," admitted Hermione. "It's just -" she paused and bit her bottom lip. "I don't know if I'm good enough for him."

Pansy frowned. "Good enough?" Then her eyes widened. "If you're talking about the Muggle thing, I swear I will slap your silly head Hermione-"

"No, no! Of course not. It's not that. It's just," she hesitated, then swung her hand generally in the direction of Kate. "Look at her. She's the kind of person you'd expect to see with Draco. All glamorous, high society."

"Pish posh!" tutted Pansy. "Do you actually think Draco is that shallow?"

"It's not about shallowness, it's just how he's been brought up and how he lives. I mean, you and Blaise come from the same background but you manage to be absolutely lovely in spite of it. But Malfoy is the furthest thing from down-to-earth, and I don't think that's my type. At all," finished Hermione, her shoulders slumped.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Types! There are no types, 'Mione. There are men. And then there are more men. It sounds like you're rationalising all this, if you asked me!"

She pursed her lips in protest. "I'm not. I'm just _thinking_."

"Well, you sure are thinking too hard," teased Pansy.

"Shouldn't I be?"

Pansy gave her a knowing look. "But you said you're not even dating - why are you doing so much thinking?"

That silenced Hermione for a little bit, and she took a big swig of her Pimms and mumbled behind her glass an "I don't know."

The bride grinned. "There'll be a time for questions, darling, but not tonight. It's my wedding, and I forbid you to do any more thinking!"

* * *

A sweet tinkle of silver against glass seeped into Hermione's awareness, and the warm buzz of conversation under the marquee slowly dimmed to a low murmur.

Her eyes quickly found Malfoy standing up at the bride and groom's table. It was time for the best man's speech.

"How bad do you think this will be?" asked Bill, his voice filled with dread, before tucking back a mouthful of wine to steel himself against the inevitable.

Hermione propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm. She watched Malfoy as he stood easily, his shoulders relaxed. He had dressed in a sleek black suit instead of traditional robes for this warm evening, and he looked perfectly comfortable being the centre of attention.

Wetting his lips, he began in a mischievous tone. "Pansy and I were promised to each other when we were still in diapers, and for a while I thought it was going well, especially when she gave me my first kiss when I was twelve."

He paused as the dinner party laughed politely. "But being the unconventional woman that she is, she chose to marry my best friend instead. It still makes me cringe when I think of how I used to ask Blaise for dating advice." Blaise grinned widely and winked when he caught Hermione's eye.

"You know, the three of us came from broken families, that's probably one reason why we've stuck together throughout thick and thin. But it doesn't matter anymore," Malfoy paused dramatically, soaking in the silence. "Because these two are about to make a new one. So have fun on your honeymoon, I hope you enjoy my late father's house on the Amalfi coast - bless his rotten soul. And when you come back that's when the real work begins - I want a godchild onto whom I can pass my legendary wit and pranks. I love you two. I wish you both a wonderful life together."

Applause engulfed the marquee as Blaise got up and gave his best friend in what could only be described as a bear hug, before turning to hoist a teary Pansy up for a playful spin.

He looked so happy.

Hermione swallowed thickly. The alcohol was really getting to her now, and she felt the remnants of her self-control literally being disarmed by his smile. She had ignored Malfoy all day, and it hadn't been easy. Suddenly all she could think of was him, and she felt a flush heating the skin of her cheeks.

As if sensing her stare, Draco looked up, straight at her. She managed a smile and mouthed, "Good speech." He didn't smile back, and just stared back at her until she heard Bill threaten to smash his nose if he didn't look away from Fleur.

"No, Draco ees not staring at me, you silly man!" she chided.

Bill looked perplexed. "Well, who the devil is it then?"

Fleur grinned cheekily and gave Hermione a knowing smile.

She looked away and drank some more wine.

* * *

Draco tried loosening his bow tie, but it ended up falling apart. Jerking it from his neck, he flung it carelessly onto the table, and it ended up in his half-eaten plum pudding, next to about ten shot glasses.

Oh fuck, he didn't realise he'd drunk so much. He eyed the two wine bottles that he belated noticed, blearily. At least he was faring better than Blaise, who was currently passed out, sprawled face down across three chairs. Trust that wanker Theo Nott to start a massive drinking game.

Speaking of whom, he was currently dancing with Kate, his hand not too subtly on her arse, after he got tired of the shortlived game 'find Draco's girlfriend'. They'd been dancing the second the paparazzi were Disapparated away at then ten o'clock curfew. Despite everything, Draco couldn't help feeling a little bit rejected.

But in the grand scheme of things, it was just dandy. He leaned back to enjoy the consequences of the excessive drinking the Slytherins had been engaged in. Millicent was now dancing with a greying man he recognised as Blaise's uncle, and Astoria was being twirled about none too platonically by one Lee Jordan, her giant rock catching the strobe lights now and then. He couldn't see Pansy though. She was probably relieving herself of the recent dinner in a loo somewhere.

Biting back a chortle, Draco proceeded to balance one shot glass on each cheek of Blaise's arse, feeling particularly accomplished.

Damn, he was _wasted_.

And even in his wasted state he knew he was being cold-shouldered.

He turned away from Blaise, rested his chin against his shoulder, and watched Granger. He'd been doing a lot of that in the last half an hour. She was talking to Fleur, laughing over the rim of a glass of red wine. That was all she'd been doing all day and all night. Talking to Fleur, or the twins, the bridesmaids, and even Blaise's mother. But not once did she talk to a guy - only Bill Weasley and Blaise.

She wasn't even trying to make him jealous. Did she really not give a shit about him?

He got up, so clumsily that he knocked over a half-full bottle of wine, which spilled all over Blaise's head. He awoke with a yelp.

"Fucking hell, Malfoy!" he slurred, blinking, disoriented. "Where's Pansy?"

He shrugged. Then said, matter-of-factly. "I need to go get Granger."

Blaise actually grinned. "Yeah, you do that, mate. You do that. I'm just gonna-" He made to get up, attempting to lift his torso up with his hands. He promptly gave up and muttered to himself, "Fuck that, I'm staying here."

The party was winding down now. All the older guests (except Millicent's dance partner) had retired, leaving the twenty-year-olds to their own devices. Draco stumbled over an errant champagne flute, and his balance only just managed to survive that shock. He could literally feel the wine weighing down on his shoulders like lead, and the vodka and tequila and rum must have all run down to and decided to stay in his limbs, making him slow and sluggish.

Thank Merlin he didn't have the urge to throw up.

Reaching Granger's table, he stopped short, swayed, then stared at Granger again, who had noticed his approach and was looking at him too.

"Hi, Malfoy-"

"Please dance with me," he blurted out.

He didn't see Fleur's surprised face. Nor would he have cared if he did.

"Come on, Granger," he coaxed gently at her hesitation.

Snatching Granger's glass from her, Fleur more or less pushed her out of her chair and towards him. He wasted no time in grabbing her hand, in case she got away. Carefully, he laced each finger into the gaps between hers, his heart beating fast when he was finally holding her hand. It was the first time he had done that, he realised offhandedly.

They slotted into an empty space on the dance floor, and gently, he pulled her towards him, wrapping an arm fully around her waist. He brought her close so her head rested against his chest, and then he placed her hands on the lapels of his suit jacket. He sighed long and soft as they started swaying to the music that he didn't even hear.

"I've been wanting to talk to you all night," he confessed, his hands on the small of her back rubbing small circles.

Her voice was slightly muffled. "Why didn't you?" Before he could answer, she said, "Is it because of Kate?"

"No!" he replied quickly, holding her back slightly so she was looking at him. "Kate is just-"

"I know what she is," cut in Hermione, rather emotionlessly. "She's basically using you as a publicity tool so you can buy her father's business." He must have looked thrown, as she went on to explain. "I read the _Gringott Times_, Fleur told me who she was and Pansy mentioned something about the media. I connected the dots."

Draco wilted under her stare, and his whole body stiffened. "Pretty much."

He started to pull away, but she held on fast, still staring at him with her big brown eyes. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just figured.. You're Hermione Granger. You can't agree with any of this."

She shrugged. "So?"

"I thought it would... _bother_ you... Doesn't it?"

She slid her hands down his chest a couple of inches, then moved them up again. "A little, but... Does it matter?"

Covering her hands with his, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"We're not going out or anything," she replied, talking to his chest. He waited for the elusive "yet" that never came.

"No. No we're not," he mumbled in reluctant agreement. "So...?"

"So... I think it bothers me, a little... But it's not relevant," she said, pausing as a pretty blush pinked her cheeks. "Because I still think you're really hot."

His eyebrows must have disappeared into his hairline and he grinned roguishly. "Really now?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with acting on an attraction that's mutual," she continued with a lopsided smile. Moving a bit closer, she tilted her face to look at him. "And how you do business or whether I approve of it or not has nothing to do with this, _right now_."

He nodded, and he gently hooked a finger underneath a lock of stray hair, smoothing it back. "Right now, I don't think I give a shit about anything else."

And then Granger kissed him. Her hands slid slyly around his neck and pulled him close - very close. He gripped her hips and held her right there. The silk of her dress was impossibly smooth and he could feel the heat of her body underneath his fingertips. His lips parted and he drew a desperate breath that sounded more like a gasp, before angling them so he could slide his tongue into her warm and willing mouth.

Pulling back for air, Granger's eyes were dark and somber. She felt his hands travel down his front until her fingers curled into the pockets of his trousers. Then she stood up on tip toes and her breath brushed his ear. "I want you tonight, Draco."

Swallowing hard, he gave into his desires and reached down to cup her bottom, gathering her up and against him. He craned his neck so his lips lingered by the side of her neck and he nodded, feeling exceedingly foolish for not being able to utter a proper response before Hermione started leading them back towards the house, a shy smile gracing her red lips.

He didn't notice Theo's jaw go slack.

He didn't notice Fleur happily clapping her hands together, while Bill looked on in utter bewilderment.

He didn't notice Blaise lifting his glass to Pansy across the room.

But he did see a suspicious flash from a tall shrub of roses in the distance.

He would check that out in the morning after... you know.

* * *

A/N: I warned you, it's a big chapter! As I said in the sneak peek from last week, I've been crazy busy traveling and moving, and jet lag has been a complete pain in the ass, so I apologise for the late update! I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. I find ensemble casts really difficult to write, but I wanted the wedding to be real and lively, so it had to be done. As for the last part, I must admit I'm a bit nervous about the reaction. But both Draco and Hermione are consenting adults, and consenting adults sometimes make subpar decisions when they're drunk - it should be interesting to see how it plays out.

Thank you once again for the amazing response to the last chapter. As usual, **sneak peeks will be sent out to all reviewers**, which will hopefully be finished by next week. I'm starting a summer job for this month next week, but I will be churning out updates as quickly as I can. Have a nice week everyone!


	20. Spoons

Chapter 20: Spoons

I'm always looking for meaningful one-night stands. - _Dudley Moore_

* * *

"I can feel your regret from over here," drawled Draco, not even needing to open his eyes to know that she was awake. Her squirming had woken him up a good while ago.

"I don't regret... it," she replied in a small and scratchy voice.

"You can say it, you know. Sex. S-E-X," he goaded with a cheeky grin. He blinked his eyes open and yawned. "I mean, you practically jumped me last night, Granger."

She turned over onto her back and rubbed her eyes before shooting him a pointed look. "Excuse me, _you_ were gawking at me all day long. I just decided to be a man about it."

"I'm not complaining," he said, rolling onto his side to curl an arm around her middle, humming in approval that they were both stark naked underneath the duvet.

"Um. What are you doing?"

Draco smirked at the squeakiness of her voice. "I'm spooning you. It's way too early to be awake and I want to sleep." He buried his nose into her hair snugly.

"Can you... can you not do that?"

"Do what?"

"Press up against me."

"That's what spooning means, Granger," he said sarcastically.

"I know what spooning means!"

His brow furrowed. "Why don't you want me to spoon you?"

"I'm not comfortable," said Granger, pulling away from him.

Draco scowled, snatching his arm back as if bitten. "What's your problem?"

She didn't reply, keeping her back to him, shoulders drawn up tensely.

"Fine," he bit out. "Whatever. You're stiff as a board anyway."

Granger flipped around abruptly and glared at him, clutching the duvet so tight her knuckles turned white. "Excuse me? You don't need to be rude about it."

He rolled his eyes, sitting up quickly. "I knew you'd act like this. Fuck this."

Her lips thinned. "Well, _you_ have terrible morning breath!"

Kicking the covers away, he got up, trying to ignore the pang of hangover dizziness that hit him. "Good comeback, Granger, excellent!"

"Screw you Malfoy!" she shouted as he stormed into the bathroom, without bothering to put on his boxers, and slammed the door shut.

In spite, he flipped the toilet seat up with so much force that it bounced back, clattering noisily. Relieving himself of all the toxins from last night, he fumed in silence. Of course Granger would act like a woman wronged the morning after. She probably blamed him for putting a dent in her perfect record of sleeping with perfectly nice men who made soppy love in the missionary position.

When he finished, he flushed the loo, leaving the lid up. If Granger thought he'd put it back down she had another thing coming.

Padding over to the sink, he turned the tap on and winced at his reflection. Thank Merlin it was a Muggle mirror; his mirror at home would give him hell for looking like shit. But hey, no matter how shit he looked, no woman had _ever_ not wanted him again in the morning. Hell, _he_ wanted Granger again this morning... just for a damned cuddle like some teenage boy, and she all but kicked him out of bed.

He glanced outside. It was starting to light up outside. He thought about crashing a couch - there must be a free one somewhere in this ten-bedroom mansion. But nothing beats a bed. He was hangover as fuck. He _deserved _to sleep in a bed.

So he picked up a toothbrush.

Two minutes later, he snuck back into the bedroom. Granger had her back to him, but at least she hadn't torn his pillow into shreds or wrapped the entire duvet around herself. Hoping it was a good sign, he gently climbed onto the bed and ducked under the covers.

She didn't move.

Keeping a respectable distance from her, he leaned forward and paused just above her right shoulder. Knowing she would be able to smell the minty toothpaste on his breath, he asked, "Better?"

She didn't reply.

Draco sighed softly, shifting to half-prop himself up on the headboard so he could see the side of her face. "Don't fight it, Granger. It's toastier with the both of us in here and I know you like it too."

She peered at him over her shoulder, through soft tresses of chestnut hair. Then slowly, slowly, the corner of her lips lifted into a lopsided smile. He thought she looked pretty... beautiful.

"Fine, but don't get used to it," she replied on an exhale.

"I'll try not to." He smiled back, sliding onto his back and slipped his right hand from underneath the duvet, resting it on his pillow. He'd much rather be putting it to good use, like cupping one of Granger's boobs. But he was a gentleman, so he added, "I won't spoon you, don't worry."

He watched as Granger pursed her lips briefly before shuffling closer to him. He held his breath as she sank her back into his front, shifting so that she rubbed against him invitingly. He bit his lips, the warmth of her body so overwhelmingly comforting that his eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. He snaked an arm around her waist.

"I knew you couldn't resist me," he teased, nosing through her hair to kiss the back of her neck.

"Don't be cocky," she retorted.

He chuckled. "Not yet I won't be."

He could feel the soft shake of her shoulders as she giggled. His smile split wider when he felt her hand close over his. Flexing his wrist upward, he wriggled his fingers and tangled them with hers.

* * *

The knocking wouldn't stop.

Hermione felt Malfoy stir behind her, who promptly unleashed a string of the most colorful curses ever invented, the profanity brushing just past her exposed ear. Clutching her even tighter against him, she felt him bury his face in her hair.

Malfoy finally yelled at the fifth knock. "Fuck off!"

"Malfoy!" she chided, landing a pinch on his forearm.

"I want to sleep," he grumbled, catching her wrist and tucking it underneath his hand before she could pinch him again. Raising his voice, he thundered. "Just come the fuck in!"

Realising belatedly that whoever walked through the door would catch her in the most compromising position, she squealed and ducked underneath the duvet.

"Granger."

"I'm not here."

Malfoy stripped the duvet back without so much of a warning and she yelped indignantly, her hands flying up to cover her chest. The bright morning light stung her eyes and she winced.

"Was that _really_ necessary!" she squeaked, quickly gathering the duvet around her torso.

His lips quirked apparently at her prudish behaviour. "Well, after all the energy we burned through last night, I thought you'd be interested to know that breakfast is here."

Following the dramatic sweep of his arm, Hermione felt her lips turn upward at the sight of a rather fancy breakfast tray currently floating its way towards the bed. "Look at those dome lids! Are they actually real silver?"

"A droll thing to be concerned with right now," he commented with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Let's eat by the window," she replied. "It'd be nice to let some sun in, it looks perfectly warm outside."

Malfoy pouted. "Can't we just eat in bed? Naked?" he added with sidelong leer.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"Keep pushing it and you can eat in the bathroom. On the loo. Alone. Naked."

Throwing up his hands in surrender, he conceded. "Fine, _mademoiselle_, whatever you want."

With a grunt of effort, Malfoy heaved himself off the headboard and inched forward towards the tray which had now reached the foot of the bed, carefully keeping the sheets wrapped around his waist. He tried pushing the tray towards the table to the right, but it didn't budge.

"Bloody hell, just move already!" he growled, grabbing a handle and gave it a mighty yank, which seemed to anger the tray. It resisted and its legs scuttled backwards stubbornly, not unlike a dog fighting against taking a bath, making the china and silver jingle. Hermione fought a grin.

In defeat, Malfoy let go, peeved that he was bested by a piece of wood. "Must be Blaise and his bloody clever charms, the tray won't move. Getting my way never felt so underwhelming."

"That actually is really clever," chuckled Hermione, moving the duvet so that the tray could land evenly on the mattress. Spotting an envelope, she plucked it from where it rested between two empty cups, and read it aloud. "'We swung by earlier but you were still asleep. We decided to leave early for Italy, so stay in bed and enjoy breakfast! Thanks for everything again you guys. We love you, see you when we get back in three weeks! Blaise & Pansy Zabini xxx'."

"Thank fuck, no nagging for three weeks," rejoiced Malfoy as he flopped onto his back, making the mattress bounce. "Is the coffee pot charmed to pour itself?"

"Don't be a lazy arse, Malfoy," quipped Hermione, crawling towards the edge of the bed in search of her bra, which was nowhere to be seen. "Can I borrow your shirt, Malfoy? Just need to pop to the loo."

He grinned wolfishly. "Sure. As long as you don't wear anything underneath."

She rolled her eyes, turning her back to him so that she could quickly slip his shirt on. Fortunately it smelled clean enough, and she kept her arm belted on her chest so he couldn't take a cheeky peek. Her legs creaked when they hit the carpeted floor, and she groaned as her muscles stretched after a solid 14 hours in bed.

"I feel like a plank of wood," she complained, picking up her discarded knickers on her way to the bathroom.

She heard Malfoy snicker as she closed the door behind her. "You're anything but, Granger."

The bathroom was warm, nearly glowing yellow as the early afternoon poured in through the large windows. The tiles of the floor were cool though, and Hermione felt reality seeping back into her veins as she walked stiffly across the unnecessarily big room towards the loo.

The toilet lid was up, and Hermione frowned. Looked like she had to have a word with -

_Hold it right there!_ She thought to herself. Toilet lids were on relationship territory, somewhere around the two-month mark. And they were nowhere near there. She calmly put the lid down.

Whilst on the loo, her mind wandered. She instigated sex with Malfoy last night. Malfoy! She seduced him into her bed - well technically, his bed because it was his room - and it was bloody amazing. She let him take her knickers off with his teeth and he let her tease him until he was panting for her touch. Well, smack her arse and call her Judy!

When she came out of the bathroom she was feeling suitably refreshed. On the bed, Malfoy was buttering toast with such care that he might as well have been coating a cake with buttermilk.

"Coffee or tea?" he asked as she curled into a comfortable ball next to him, their arms touching.

"Lots of coffee, please," she answered, reaching over to his side and grabbed two cubes of sugar. "No milk."

He poured the coffee into her cup as she stirred in the sugar, a peaceful silence befalling them as the teaspoon clinked against the porcelain cup.

When she was done, Malfoy lifted up his coffee, which had so much milk it almost looked like tea, and winked. "Here's to a night of successful sex."

"Must you be so crass?" she wrinkled her nose, but raised her cup anyway.

Malfoy took a long sip before smacking his lips and he sighed appreciatively. "I thought what I said was very complimentary."

She half-smiled, fluffing a big pillow and slipped it behind her back. "I have to say I was impressed you were still able to get it up considering the state you were in."

Feigning surprise, Malfoy bit into his toast and remarked, "Now _who_ is being crass?"

"That's rich coming from you," said Hermione. Feeling her stomach rumble, she pulled the dramatic dome lid off her plate and was delighted to find a vegan full English breakfast. "Blaise and Pansy remembered that I'm vegan!" she said happily, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.

"Veganism is such a load of bullshit," said Malfoy with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "Here, have some sausage."

Whacking his hand away, she decided to ignore his innuendo. It was weird enough eating breakfast with Draco Malfoy. Not to mention that he was stark naked underneath those sheets. And from where she was sitting, he was looking _fine_.

"You know, you might as well be wearing nothing. I can see straight through the shirt, Granger."

That caught her just as she was swallowing a mushroom, which was now lodged intrusively in her throat, causing her to splutter and Malfoy to laugh. Flushing furiously, she gathered the duvet around her shoulders and with a large cough she could breathe again. "Thanks, Malfoy. Thanks a lot."

Malfoy seemed delighted at her response. "Why so shy, Granger? I've already seen you naked. Every delicious inch of you." As if making a point, he trailed a teasing finger down the length of her arm.

Spearing a veggie sausage with her fork, she insisted loudly, "I'm not shy!"

Malfoy hmmm'ed dubiously. "Alright, maybe you're not, if last night was anything to go by. Tell me, Granger, do you act with such reckless abandon with everyone else you sleep with, or was I just lucky?"

Flushing bright red, she mumbled something she hoped was incoherent enough to evade the question.

Malfoy's blond eyebrows knitted together in utmost perplexity. "Wait... you've never... had sex?"

Hermione wondered idly if her face could physically resemble baked beans. "_No!_ Did you seriously think I was a virgin? I meant I haven't had a one night stand before!"

"So you mean to tell me you haven't had sex since your last boyfriend? Wow, this is _huge_," he said and blew a raspberry.

She launched herself onto him, knocking him sideways while jabbing him in the stomach. "You're such an arsehole Malfoy!"

"Hey! We just had sex, I'm allowed to ask intimate questions," he grinned easily. He stayed on his side, not at all bothered by her assault.

"It was a one night stand! That doesn't give you any privileges."

Malfoy put on a hurt puppy look. "Stop saying it's a one night stand, Granger! We both know damned well that it isn't!"

Hermione pulled back, thrown. "It isn't?"

He gave her a devastatingly charming smile. "Granger, I'm here, having a romantic breakfast in bed with you. Does it look like I think you're a one night stand?"

Her heart was beating fast, and she wrung her hands nervously. She somehow felt that sometime in the future, she would look back and know that this was a significant moment. One in which the twisted sheets were starting to loosen from Malfoy's waist and exposing a hip bone as he half sat up to scoop her into his grasp.

"I'm not asking for much, Granger. At least throw me a bone for saying something vaguely sweet to you."

Disoriented, Hermione opened her mouth, but closed it when she realised she didn't know what to say.

"Charming," grinned Malfoy. "I just robbed Hermione Granger of the ability to say clever things. I've never been so flattered in my life."

A loud knock jerked Hermione out of her trance, and before either of them could react, the door opened and in ambled a very smug Theodore Nott. And all of a sudden, she was on her back, with Malfoy covering her state of undress and swearing at his Slytherin friend.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Nott? Get out!" he yelled, his jaw clenching right above her face.

Theo clucked, hands on hips. "Knew I should've invested in a camera. I'd be richer than you if I had one right now, Malfoy." He gave the upside down Hermione a wide smile. "Good afternoon, Granger, long time no see."

With a snarl, Draco carefully wrapped the sheets around Granger's chest and moved off her, helping her up. He then sat up on the edge of the bed and spread his legs brazenly wide.

"Eyes up, Nott," he barked.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Draco. If I wanted to look at a package I'd check out my own."

He turned to watch Granger's reaction. She looked unexpectedly amused. Of course, when he was being vulgar deserved to have his mouth washed with soap, but when Theo did it it was funny.

"How did you enjoy yesterday Theo?" asked Granger politely, twisting around to put her bare feet on the floor next to him.

Draco gaped at her. "Really? You're going to start a civil conversation with him when he barged in without so much of a 'hello'?"

"Just scandalous enough to be entertaining," replied Theo, bypassing Draco completely. "Thanks for Kate again, Malf-" He dove just in time for an expensive shoe to sail over his head harmlessly. "Really, Draco, manners! Did Narcissa teach you nothing?"

"You have three seconds to tell me what you're doing here before I kick you out, and I guarantee you it will be painful."

Granger snickered, tilting her head to one side and her right eye crinkling in mirth. "Ooh, Malfoy gets tough- _oof_! What are you doing!"

Draco tightened his grip on her waist, having just hauled her into his lap to re-establish some sort of authority in this room. "One more word Granger, and I'll throw you out too."

Theo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. "Shall we try very hard to get kicked out, Hermione?"

She laughed. She laughed! Draco spluttered. "Granger, this guy isn't even funny! And don't think you can distract me, Nott - what did you come in here for, uninvited?"

From his back pocket, Theo whipped out a rolled up newspaper and tossed it to the couple. Draco caught it and with a flourish, it unrolled like a scroll. Both of their jaws dropped at the glaring headline.

_The Daily Prophet_

_16__th__ July, 2004_

_**THE FORBIDDEN AFFAIR: HERMIONE AND DRACO GIVE INTO DESIRES THAT HAVE BEEN BREWING SINCE THE HOGWARTS DAYS**_

Draco's mind had barely caught up with the words on the paper before the words rushed out of him. "That flash in the bushes! That fucking flash in the bushes!"

"You saw a flash in the bushes and you didn't do anything about it?" Granger yelled into his ear, giving his chest an angry push, but stayed put in his lap. "Why?!"

Dropping the Prophet, Draco grabbed both her wrists and protested. "Hey! You had just stuck your tongue in my ear and were practically dragging me back to the house for a hot shag, it wasn't like I was thinking straight!"

"You could've done something about it _afterwards_!"

"That was the bloody plan!" roared Draco, fisting his fingers in his hair. "But I fell asleep! Do you know how much concentration it takes to shag properly when you're plastered!"

"This is bad," declared Granger, snatching the paper from his hands and stared hard at it. "This is _really_ bad."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Theo leaning back against the door frame, observing the yelling match between himself and Granger with a most infuriatingly amused look that just begged to be punched clean off his face.

"If you want to say something, Theo, just say it," bit out Draco.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing that hasn't been said in the _Prophet_. But both of you would want to go back to your homes and set up some wards and probably brew some Polyjuice - the paparazzi is becoming more brazen by the day."

"And you'd know that because you're followed _everywhere_," said Draco sarcastically.

Theo grinned. "I've shagged enough famous women to know how it works."

Draco shifted Granger so that she was half sitting on the bed now. "How are you getting back?"

"Portkey," she answered. "I have to go soon, I need to start on some sketching for a client meeting tomorrow morning."

"Damn there's no floo here," lamented Draco, his hands falling naturally onto her bare legs and rubbing them soothingly. "Owl Potter and tell him to go put up wards around your flat first. The photographers would literally be on brooms outside your windows. You can stay with me tonight and I'll take you back to your flat tomorrow morning."

"I promised Ginny I'd catch up with her tonight, so it'd make more sense if I stayed at hers," reasoned Granger. "But I'll send Harry an owl now."

"Why can't you just floo over to mine when you're done with the Weaselette?" Draco snapped his mouth shut when he realised how whiny he sounded, especially with Theo in the room.

Granger's lips quirked. "I haven't seen Ginny for a week, and she gets separation anxiety. We're all having pizza and drinks tomorrow night though, you're welcome to come if you want. You too, Theo."

Before Draco could open his mouth, Theo jumped in and said too cheerfully, "That sounds like an _excellent_ idea, Hermione. We'll be there, with bells on."

"Great," said Granger with a grin. "Well, I'd better get moving now. Got lots to do before the portkey activates." She paused, giving Theo an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I'll have to kick you out, I'm not exactly appropriately dressed."

"Don't worry about it Hermione," replied Theo. "I'll get out of you lovebirds' hair now, got a bit of packing to do myself."

"We'll see you tomorrow night then," chirped Granger. "At Harry and Ginny's place, I'll have Malfoy owl you the address."

"Excellent," said Theo, shooting Draco a smile that was decidedly evil. "I'll see you at Potter's tomorrow night, Malfoy."

As soon as the door closed behind Theo, Granger sprang up from the bed, the sheets falling off her body enticingly. "Where's my wand? I can't find my bra and I kind of need it."

Well, Draco wasn't in a hurry to help her find it. So he propped his feet up onto the bed next to their abandoned breakfast tray. "Granger, about this pizza night."

"What about it?" she asked, busying herself with looking underneath furniture for her lost items.

"So is it like, you, Potter, Weaselette-"

"Ginny," she corrected him.

"- Weasel, then me and Theo?"

Granger straightened her spine, a hand on hip with a puzzled look. "Yes."

Draco waited for it to sink it, but apparently it didn't. Really? Four Gryffindors versus two Slytherins? If he didn't know Granger any better he'd say it sounded like a plot to murder them.

He attempted to communicate his anxieties in a way that wouldn't involve Granger doing him any physical harm. "So we'll be sitting there, eating pizza."

"Yes," she said slowly, a bit condescendingly if you asked him. "So?"

With a big sigh, he said finally, "Nothing. Sounds like fun. Though I'm not sure how pizzas can be vegan."

She laughed. "You'd be surprised."

* * *

Theo was a little bit drunk. He'd decided the best way to avoid the inevitable hangover was to stay drunk, so he'd kept a bottle of red next to his bedside table. It was now three o'clock in the afternoon and there was only a quarter of wine left.

He didn't go on holiday often. Managing his father's vast fortune was a full time job, and so was evading the tax authorities. So when he did take time off, he always made sure to milk it and go all the way. Banging Draco Malfoy's date was one such example.

Speaking of whom... Hermione Granger. Surprise was the mildest possible way of putting it. Absolutely and utterly floored was more like it. It was like that time he woke up in just his boxers and shoes in the ensuite bathroom of Mrs. Zabini's hotel suite. He still wasn't sure what happened there that night.

A real _what the fuck_ moment.

Not that it was impossible though. Granger had always been pretty in a way. And the thought of mounting a Gryffindor had always gotten Theo's pants a bit tight -

A most vicious slap on the back of his head had him howling in pain, and through embarrassingly wet eyes he watched Malfoy saunter into his line of vision with a satisfied smirk.

"Least you deserve for interrupting my breakfast," he said, taking a seat on the other side of the bench.

"If I'd heard you coming, I would have taken you down, mate."

Malfoy snorted. "As if. You're still drunk. You're sluggish as a worm as soon as you get a glass into your system."

Theo shrugged and grinned. "I can still shag like a champ though. Ask Kate."

"Can you just shut up about Kate already?"

"Jealous are we, Drakey?"

His nostrils flared. "Why should I be?"

Licking his lips, Theo decided to have a bit of fun. "Well, I mean, come on. Kate had those amazing legs, and those jugs -" he paused and made a face that conveyed pure amazement. "And well, _Granger_ on the other hand - seems like you drew the short straw, you know?"

Carefully peering to his left, Theo spied Malfoy's fingers clenching the bench way too tightly. He pressed on recklessly. "And I'm telling you mate, the tricks she knew - _Merlin's rod_. I bet Granger doesn't even go on top, does she?"

Theo casually glanced to his right. Pale lips thinned dramatically, shoulders stiff. Just a little nudge and he'd go tumbling.

He smirked devilishly. "But still. I'd shag her. I'd shag her good and long until she can't wal-"

Thank Merlin he was a bit tipsy - it certainly dulled the mean right hook that caught the underside of his jaw. But he slumped forward anyway, figuring he should give Malfoy the satisfaction after such knobbish behaviour. Stretching open his jaw slowly, Theo winced. It actually did sting.

"You're such a wanker, Theo," said Malfoy through gritted teeth, shaking his hand out. "You actually make me miss Blaise."

"You never could take a bit of teasing," replied Theo with a grin. "So... how was Granger?"

"Not as good as your mother."

With a bark of laughter, Theo said, "That was below the belt, mate."

"_You_ started it," shot back Malfoy childishly.

They listened to the slosh of liquid as Theo washed the pain down with a mouthful of wine. It was a beautiful afternoon. They were sat right where the Zabini's had exchanged their vows, and the day was so clear that he could see people walking about in the neighbouring town.

"You know she's too good for you right?"

Draco whipped his head around. "I'm good enough for _anyone_."

Theo shook his head, taking another swig. "No, no. Like good, as in literally goody-two-shoes good."

Rubbing his eyes, Malfoy sighed and asked. "What's your point?"

"Can you imagine the nagging she'll put you through?" He put his voice up a notch. "'No Drakey Poo you can't yell at your lawyers. You have to be nice to the house elves-'"

"- I don't even use those damned creatures anymore -"

"'You have to donate all your profits to a shelter for kitties -'"

"C'mon Theo -"

"And do you actually want to be in a relationship in general right now?" he asked. "When you're getting more arse that you can literally sink your teeth into?"

Draco scoffed. "Don't be so lewd, you're making me blush. And how exactly did this conversation turn into such a pussy heart-to-heart?"

"You'd tell Blaise," pouted Theo.

"That's because he's my best mate."

"I don't understand why you have to monopolise him. As far as I'm concerned _he's_ my best mate, too."

"Speaking of besties, _thank you_ for your very prompt RSVP to Potty and Weasel's house party, you fucker," said Draco sardonically.

His eyes widened in pretend innocence. "What? I thought you wanted to go after that very public display of clinginess."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "You're the biggest knob on the planet right now."

"Oh come on, Draco, pizza night with the Gryffinbores! It's a foolproof Sunday night plan," grinned Theo, leaning over to give him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Theo knew he needed it.

* * *

A/N: This chapter took a lot of rewriting. It verged a bit too much onto fluffiness at times, and I tried really hard to neutralise it with humour and crassness in the form of Theo, so hopefully it worked out! I hope you are all happy with the way Hermione and Draco's relationship shaping out to be. Also, I hope everyone liked the Theo scenes, there has to be someone here to annoy Draco while the Zabini's are away on their honeymoon.

Thank you all again for your amazing comments. As usual, **all reviewers will get a sneak preview** of the next chapter when I've written it up. The summer job's keeping me busy but again, I'll try to update within 2 weeks!

Lastly, there aren't that many chapters left now, I won't say how many exactly, but we're almost there!


	21. Paranoia

Chapter 21: Paranoia

"So, it's 50% drinking game, 50% life-size Candy Land... Well, it's more like 75% drinking, 20% Candy Land, and by the way the floor is molten lava... It's actually 90% drinking and then it's got a loose Candy Land-like structure to it." - True American drinking game, _New Girl_

* * *

"Why didn't you just Floo or Apparate? You could've saved me a lot of climbing through the bushes to get to you!"

"I gotta tell you, Hermione, I've never minded climbing through any bush."

Malfoy sighed irritatedly. "Shut _up_, Theo. I told you, Granger, we had to stop by the liquor store, and they had no Floo. And we were worried that if we Apparated, Potter's wards would have repelled us and left us on our arses in the middle of the carnivorous paparazzi that have camped outside the house."

Hermione grumbled "bloody Slytherins" to herself, and glanced down to make sure the Invisibility Cloak was safely bunched up in her hands. Harry wouldn't be happy if she tore it after borrowing it to sneak Malfoy and Theo in.

Before long, she spotted the opening to Harry and Ginny's backyard. With a relieved sigh, she hurriedly crawled towards the source of light, and once she was free of the dense vegetation, she stood up on aching legs and waited for the other two to come through.

Still unnoticed, Malfoy emerged first, scowling and clutching the paper bag of liquor defensively as he straightened his legs to stand. Theo followed quickly, faking a choking cough and asked loudly, "Did you _have_ to fart in there, Draco? The ventilation isn't exactly fantastic you know!"

Well, _that_ caught Harry and Ron's attention.

The barbecue crackled menacingly as the two sides stood off rather dramatically. The Gryffindors over the grill, the Slytherins by the thick bushes. Hermione was standing somewhere in between them, wringing the Invisibility Cloak, wondering idly how much the twigs in Malfoy's hair looked like devil's horns.

Then he clucked and drawled cockily, "Well, well, if it isn't Scarhead and his red sidekick."

"Malfoy!" chided Hermione sharply, giving him a glare while he shrugged and gave her a look that asked "what did I do wrong?".

"Ah, the slimy Slytherin gits are here at last," shot back Harry, aggressively brandishing a pair of tongs over the merry fire on which two steaks were roasting.

Hermione frowned. "Harry! Really! Be civil,_ all_ of you!"

Theo rolled his eyes, stalking over to the ice bucket and grabbed a beer. "C'mon, Hermione, don't you miss the good old Hogwarts days with all that delicious house rivalry? Merlin knows I do. I'm not gonna lie, I always wank over - _Shit_! Malfoy! Stop hitting me on the head!"

Ron actually looked mildly amused, and Hermione said by way of explanation, her fingers fluttering in his direction. "That's just Theo, you'll get used to it."

The squeak of the patio doors alerted them to the presence of the lady of the house, who skidded to a halt when her eyes alighted on the five of them. "_Damn_, you really are fine, Draco Malfoy."

Ron's ears turned red, and he poked at the steaks in exasperation. "Really, Ginny. Flirting with Malfoy isn't the best thing to do in front of your fiancé, your older brother and his girlfriend."

Nerves, shock and plain awkwardness all bundled into one and ran down her spine like ice cubes. _Girlfriend_? Before Hermione could panic, Ginny cut in smoothly with a snort.

"Pah!" she said dismissively, levitating a tray of crockery towards the picnic table. "Girlfriend my arse, Ron. I bet they haven't talked about dating exclusively yet."

Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on her. She squirmed. "What? Was that a question?"

Ginny winked. "It might have been."

Hermione heard Malfoy grumble "nosy Gryffinbores" under his breath, and before anyone could ask anything else, she turned on her heels and headed purposefully towards the house. "Come on, Malfoy, let's put that vodka into the freezer."

She heard Theo chuckle. "I bet that's not the only thing that you'll be putting into -"

"THEO!"

Damned Ginny was actually laughing _with_ him! Harry and Ron were trying not very hard to not snicker. _Thanks guys_, she thought. With a disgruntled shake of her head, she reached out to grab the paper bag in Malfoy's hand and stomped into the kitchen.

"You look a bit flushed, Granger," said Malfoy teasingly as he closed the patio door behind him. "Surely the Weaslette's comment didn't bother you... or did it?"

Hermione snorted as she walked around the dining table to get to the fridge. "Of course not!"

"And Theo's?"

"Nope," she replied easily. "He might be crass but I know he means no harm. And he's a great icebreaker, I'll have to say. Can you believe that he's already made the three of them laugh? Once you two get going they'd pee their pants."

"Well, that's a pleasant sight to imagine," drawled Malfoy with a wrinkle of his nose. "By the way, I thought tonight was supposed to be pizza night?"

"Harry just bought the portable barbecue and he was really eager to try it out," she explained. "So we're leaving pizza for another night."

Opening the fridge door, Hermione frowned at the tightly packed space. There was certainly no room for two bottles of vodka.

Malfoy walked up behind her and suggested, "Put it in the freezer if there's no room. There's nothing worse than warm vodka."

"I can't believe you got two bottles," said Hermione as she tucked them both into the compact freezer, next to a big bag of frozen peas. "Planning to get wasted again so soon?"

Reaching behind her, Malfoy closed the freezer door, and she shivered at the last puff of cold air that escaped. "Well, how drunk I get will be proportionate to how awkward this evening turns out to be."

She grinned. "I guess there's always drinking games to fall back on if we have nothing to say to each other."

He gave her sly smile in return, one hand finding the small of her back and pulled her towards him. "I think there's something else I'd rather fall back on, Granger."

"Horny bastard," she chastised half-heartedly, her hands coming up to rest at the bend of his arms, right where the sleeves of his casual blue shirt were rolled up to.

Malfoy proceeded to smirk in a most unholy way, leaning his forehead against her and murmured against her lips. "As if you weren't touching yourself last night while thinking about me."

Her cheeks prickled with heat. "Malfoy!"

He let her fists pummel his chest indignantly for a moment or two before he gathered up her wrists in his much bigger hands, and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck. Then he leaned down, kissing her sweetly. A small sigh escaped her as he snaked between her lips and slid against the sensitive tip of her tongue, and she swore she could feel Malfoy grin into the kiss.

Arrogant bastard.

Hermione disengaged her right hand from the nape of his neck, and sneakily, down it went, over the back of his expensive shirt, brushed past his leather belt, and... Voila! Squeezed his denim-clad butt cheek _hard_. A giggle bubbled out of her when Malfoy broke the kiss to let out a strangled choke of surprise.

Her left hand had just made its way down south when Ron whined from the patio, slapping his hands over his eyes. "Oh bloody hell, I just wanted more beer, I didn't want to see_ that_!"

With a laugh, Hermione glanced up at Malfoy. "I think he might need some of that vodka now."

* * *

Ginny was extolling the virtues of the Chudley Cannons' uniform over loud protestations from Theo (whose father owned the Tutshill Tornados) and from Harry (who simply didn't want to hear his fiancée talking about "tight buns bent over broomsticks"), when a loud crack of electricity startled Hermione into dropping the sweet potato she was devouring onto her lap.

"What on _earth_ was that?" she asked, her wide eyes sweeping across the small backyard.

"The wards," replied Harry. "Must be some idiot photographer trying to break in again."

Hermione chewed guiltily on her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry, you guys, I had no idea they would camp outside your house too."

Ginny reached across the table, over an almost empty platter of half-eaten steak and chicken bones, and patted her hand reassuringly. "It's not your fault, 'Mione."

She turned to Malfoy, who was sat next to her, and asked, "Is there something you can do about it?"

"We could apply for a super-injunction," he said, sucking on a finger covered in barbecue sauce. "But that could take months."

Theo piped up from the other side of Malfoy. "Why don't you do what Muggles do, and send them a sex tape? Then you would have left absolutely nothing to their imagination and they would have nothing to write about."

Sitting opposite him, Ron choked hard on the mouthful of beer he was just trying to swallow. "Honestly, Nott! Do you have to say things like that in public?"

Theo grinned, leaning back on his chair triumphantly. "Just saying, it worked for me."

Malfoy snorted. "Of course it did, because all you could see on the bloody tape was your hairy arse. It's enough to throw anyone off your trail for life."

"All I can say is it was effective," said Theo, standing up. "Right, I'm gonna go make myself some more bangers. Who else wants seconds?"

"I want some veggie sausage please," said Hermione with her hand up.

"And I marinated some ribs, they're in the fridge. Could you get those too?" asked Ron, who was too preoccupied with his steak to get up.

"Surely the Boy Wonder has some tricks up his sleeves?" said Malfoy when Theo had left the table. "Didn't they hound you and the Weaslette for years?"

"Well, they stopped after I hexed a few of them, but of course, that landed me in court with a hefty fine," sniffed Ginny resentfully.

"And we used Polyjuice," said Harry. "But it wasn't really an everyday solution."

Ginny nodded in agreement made a face. "Just come clean about it. We came out as a couple about two months after the first reports. I wish we had done that earlier, to be honest. Trust me, it's the speculation that sells papers. No one's really interested in what happens after."

After a brief pause, the future Mrs Harry Potter added slyly. "But of course, you can only do that once you've decided if you _really_ want to be together."

Malfoy sighed loudly and grunted. "You know what? This conversation is getting a little bit too personal."

Hermione smiled at that, even though she agreed. "Well, I suppose this is where the vodka comes in for the purpose of deflection. Who wants to play Paranoia?"

* * *

Ginny misjudged the distance between the two of them, and smashed her forehead against Hermione's temple, which made her groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione! I was just too excited about this question," she laughed tipsily, rubbing the small bump forming on her forehead. Grabbing Hermione's arm, she pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Who do you think is most likely to have used Viagra?"

Her eyes widened in horror while Ginny grinned proudly, and sat back with Harry's arms around her. "Gin! You can't ask that!"

"Why not? That's hardly the worst question from this evening," she protested. "Now hurry up!"

"I'm definitely curious about this one," declared Theo, his fingers wrapped around the thin neck of a bottle of red wine Harry managed to find after all the vodka ran out.

"It couldntabe worse than your question, Malfoy," slurred Ron, pointing an accusing finger his way, slumped bonelessly on an armchair nearest to the fireplace.

Malfoy quirked an elegant eyebrow, but Hermione could tell he was more than tipsy by the way his arm was draped around her shoulders, his fingers grazing her collar bone every now and then. "What? I asked who is most likely to shag McGonagall, it's a legitimate question."

Harry snorted. "No, you asked who is most likely to shag McGonagall _and_ Snape at the same time_ and_ enjoy it."

"By the way, I'm glad you thought that I was most suitable for this particular task, Weasley," said Theo, saluting the redhead. "So flattered."

"Come on, 'Mione! Let's keep the game moving!" urged Ginny, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Heaving a big sigh, Hermione rocked her brain for a new question while trying to figure out the answer to Ginny's. She glanced briefly at Malfoy, who returned it with an easy grin. Oh yes, she was going to pay him back with that horrid question about licking chocolate off a certain body part he made her answer.

Pushing herself up so that she was kneeling on the sofa, she leaned over to Malfoy, but he called, "Paranoia!" before she could whisper the next question in his ear.

He grabbed Theo's bottle and took a big swig as per the house rules, before turning to Hermione. "Well? What was the question?"

She smirked, and his self-assured grin faltered. She had never used his favourite facial expression against him before. "Ginny asked who I think is most likely to have used Viagra."

Harry and Ginny's guffaws were thunderously loud, while the others looked on in confusion.

"What's - Viagra?" asked Ron, the word sitting uncomfortably on his tongue.

"It's a drug," replied Hermione, trying hard to keep a straight face while holding Malfoy's eyes. "That men take to get aroused."

The silence that fell upon the room was almost suffocating.

Hermione blinked in feigned innocence and ploughed on. "You know, it's for men who can't get it up - _Malfoy_! What are - put me down! Malfoy!"

Amongst the raucous laughter, Ginny's voice rang out. "The guest room is the first one you see when you go up the stairs!"

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or slap him as Malfoy marched determinedly up the stairs, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. So instead, she teased, "Someone's a little insecure about themselves."

"Insecure? Oh no, Granger, that's the last thing I am," he replied smoothly, running a wicked hand up the bare expanse of her thigh, making her breath hitch.

"You seem rather desperate to prove it," she retorted.

Reaching the landing, he kicked a door open and walked into the room like he owned it before nudging it shut.

"The only thing I'm proving tonight," he began, but then stopped at the edge of the bed to toss her gently onto the mattress, making her dress ride up. "Is that you are _wrong_."

Sliding over her, he palmed the back of her left hand before bringing it up to his face, pressing half-opened lips against it. Her lips fell open as she breathed heavily, and she said defiantly, "I'm never wrong, Malfoy."

He watched her with dark eyes, his smile widening. Then he said with absolute conviction, "We'll see about that, Hermione."

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_20__th__ July, 2004_

_**Early lovebirds get the worm! Draco and Hermione enjoy intimate breakfast**_

Millionaire Draco Malfoy has been spotted having an early breakfast with new girlfriend Hermione Granger at an intimate eatery in Muggle London. Hermione wore a simple t-shirt and shorts ensemble, a far cry from the glamorous dresses that she is famous for designing. This magazine was the first to break the news the Hogwarts alumni's romance which blossomed at the wedding of Pansy and Blaise Zabini...

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_26__th__ July, 2004_

**The Food of Love: Draco and Hermione shop at supermarket**

Draco holds girlfriend Hermione's hand as they shop at a Muggle supermarket near her flat in Wandsworth Town. They were seen picking up several cheeses and a bottle of wine, no doubt for a romantic dinner at home...

* * *

_Malfoy International Corporation (MIC)_

_Press Release_

_1__st__ August 2004_

**Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger apply for super-injunction**

After weeks of the intrusive and insensitive media furore centred on Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy has decided to apply for a super-injunction to protect their privacy. Mr Malfoy strongly advises all media bodies to cease their incessant reporting as of today or else face ruthless legal action once the super-injunction is granted by the Wizengamot...

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_8__th__ August, 2004_

**Doubling the Fun! Hogwarts quartet goes on double date**

Draco and Hermione were snapped going on a fun-filled double date with newly weds Pansy and Blaise Zabini, who look bronzed from their three-week honeymoon in Italy. Bestie Draco lent his late father's house to the Zabini's, which is reported to be in Positano on the Amalfi Coast, after their wedding earlier this month...

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_14__th__ August, 2004_

**Draco Snaps!**

Draco Malfoy unleashed his legendary temper on photographers who were following him into a cafe today, firing off a torrent of ruthless hexes, including one that stripped a _Daily Prophet_ journalist down to his boxers. Mr Malfoy has been issued a warning for common assault. But, _my oh my _ladies, doesn't Draco look delicious with his hair tousled and shirt wrinkled after all that tantrum throwing?

* * *

".. Fucking cap-wearing lowlife, arse-licking -"

"Malfoy!" hissed Hermione. "People will _hear_ you!"

She felt her blood pump faster with each click of the camera on the next table, made invisible by a Disillusionment Charm. She recognised the photographer who worked for _Witch Weekly,_ poorly disguised in Muggle clothes that looked like they were from the 1960s.

"Let's just go back to mine then -"

Malfoy glared at her, almost as viciously as he was stabbing his roast chicken that had long gone cold. "_No_. We will not run away from them. It's a matter of principle. The media doesn't control my life, I control it. I fucking control it."

"Well, you obviously aren't in control of _this_ situation," she snapped back.

"I _could_ be. I know this hex that will put a scorpion in his pants -"

"No. You've already been issued a warning for assault," said Hermione with a sigh. She felt her eyebrow twitch at another click of the camera. "How is the super-injunction coming along?"

Malfoy snorted, raking his fingers through his hair irritably. "It's not going anywhere because the Wizengamot is a bunch of useless old farts with warts for eyes."

She was so used to his explicit imagery that she didn't even bother to reprimand him anymore. "Well, I suppose we just have to be a bit smarter about all this."

"Got any ideas, O Brightest Mind Hogwarts Has Ever Seen?" he asked sarcastically.

"Don't use that tone on me, Mr Malfoy."

He huffed tiredly and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. She felt her glare soften, realising that her brow actually ached from all the frowning she had been doing lately. She reached over and gripped his hand, not caring that the photographer was having a field day right at this moment. She watched as his lips, which had been pulled way too thin lately, relax into a small smile.

"You'd better be as smart they say you are, Granger," he said finally.

"Maybe I really am overrated," she mused, cocking her head to one side. "Considering the fact that I'm going out with you."

"You know you love it, Granger," he smirked, then proceeded to prove his point with a very public display of affection.

* * *

Jack Rogers was having an exceptionally outstanding day.

The prints from last night's dinner outing were a great success. It wasn't even that complicated an assignment, other than the part where he had to find Muggle clothes to wear (he'd eventually resorted to Transfiguring his robes into a Muggle outfit he saw in the papers).

A photo of Draco Malfoy snogging Hermione Granger - in public, no less - meant a _very_ handsome bonus for him. And he had about ten of them, a promotion was almost an inevitability. In fact, he was so certain about it that he'd gone ahead and splurged on a little treat for himself while his wife was away on a business trip.

The blonde was currently putting on her obscenely high shoes, giving him a saucy wink whilst bent over. He retrieved the developed prints and tucked them safely in an unmarked brown envelope before joining her at the door.

"Thanks for last night, darling," he grinned.

The most expensive tumble in the sheets he ever had smiled and simpered, her hand lingering on his chest. "Just owl me the next time your wife is out of town, handsome."

Jack nodded, then opened the door to let her out.

And suddenly, it both sounded and looked like a million firecrackers were going off right in front of their faces.

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_24__h__ August, 2004_

**The Wrath of Draco Malfoy**

In an unexpected move that has sent the wizarding world's photographers running for cover (literally), Draco and Hermione have managed to thwart the relentless media attention. House elves under the protection of Hermione's long-established charity S.P.E.W. have been deployed to turn the tables on the paparazzi, following their every move on camera which is then published in a freely distributed paper with an accompaniment of mocking commentary.

For instance, Jack Rogers, a well-known photographer at _Witch Weekly_, was revealed to have cheated on his wife of eight years by way of a billboard advertisement showing the moment he was caught on film with a blonde prostitute. Mr Malfoy is said to have offered to pay for Mrs Rogers' divorce proceedings and has described Mr Rogers as "an arse-licking, cap-wearing lowlife"...

* * *

_Malfoy International Corporation (MIC)_

_Press Release_

_3__rd__ September 2004_

**Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger granted super-injunction**

The Wizengamot has granted Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger protection under a five-year super-injunction. Any paper that is found to possess or to publish photos taken without the authorisation of the two will feel the full force of the law...

* * *

"It's too bloody cold for September."

"I love it when you swear, Granger," replied Draco, rearranging his scarf to keep the wind out because it _was_ indeed too bloody cold for September.

She turned her head to give him a pointed look from under her bangs. "I wish I could say the same. It would be so much easier to like you in the first place."

He let his lips curl up at the snippy comment. "Am I imagining it, or are you starting to talk like a prickly old grump not unlike myself?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffed. "I'm a bagful of sunshine and positivity."

A particularly strong gust of wind blew past, making the shop windows rattle. Draco winced and instinctively pulled Granger close to shield her from the cold.

"Being the narcissist that I am, I'll have to admit that you have become even more attractive to me by acting like me."

Granger let out a mocking 'ha!' before shaking her head. "If I _had_ acted like you, I would have just sulked and moaned about the paparazzi like the spoiled prat you are, and we would have still had them on our backs."

"Interesting," he hummed. "Granger fishing for compliments. Which is, by the way, a _very_ Malfoy trait."

Granger grunted and slapped him on his chest. "I _wasn't_ fishing for compliments! Even if I was, you're the last person I'd expect to give me one."

Draco feigned a horrified look. "What are you talking about? I compliment you all the time!"

She scoffed. "The last time you said anything vaguely complimentary was last week, when you said it was amazing how my hair was so big that it was capable of smothering you in your sleep."

"It _was_ a compliment," he insisted. "Because it means that you are well-equipped to weather the storm of middle-aged hair loss."

She rolled her eyes. "As if you'd worry your pretty little head about something that wouldn't be an issue for another thirty years!"

Draco smiled and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm a businessman, Granger. I tend to take the longer-term view on everything I am involved in."

The words sank in, for a moment or two, perhaps even more for him than for her. Another sharp blast of autumn wind brought about a flurry of orange leaves that swirled around their ankles, and he watched them for a minute as they strolled on slowly down Diagon Alley.

Eventually, she shook her head and craned her neck to look at him with smiling eyes. "You are one strange man, Draco Malfoy."

"I know," he agreed. "I did fall for you, after all."

* * *

A/N: Paranoia is probably my favourite drinking game - it's always hilarious! I know I didn't make the rules that clear, but they really weren't the point anyway, so if you're curious just Google it!

Again, sorry for the late update my lovely readers, but as I've told you in the review replies I had eye surgery a few weeks ago, and I'm moving house for the second time this year in a few weeks AND going to Paris for a week soon so it's a crazily busy month for me! I'm not entirely sure that this was a good chapter, but t**his is the second last chapter folks**! I always feel like my writing runs out of steam when I near the end of a story, so hopefully it didn't disappoint too much.

I really don't want to start writing the last chapter, but I'd be lying if I said that I'm not excited that I've almost finished this story, more than four years after I started it. And fret not, readers, I actually have been planning a couple of short stories which I will get round to writing after I finish this one.

I won't be releasing a preview of the next chapter since it is the grand finale, but please review as always :)


	22. Catch-22

Chapter 22: Catch-22

Have you thought of an ending? - _Samwise Gamgee, Lord of the Rings_

* * *

I.

You'd think it'd be easy to buy a birthday present for Hermione Granger. She was a woman of simple tastes and pleasures. She preferred rundown neighbourhood haunts to haute cuisine establishments. Her idea of a good beach holiday involved renting a cheap apartment on a Sicilian island and biking to deserted beaches, where she would settle down with a battered book while she sunned herself.

Yes, a book would be enough to make her happy. _Very_ happy. Or a quill, some parchment, and a flat surface.

But _nooooo_. Being the smartarse that Draco Malfoy was, he went ahead and got her diamonds. Worse, he got her the most expensive diamond necklace at the store.

He had already been pushing the envelope with a pricey dinner, taking her out to Le Garçon in Muggle London, the restaurant his company had finally taken over. He _did_ warn her that he was going to spoil her for that one night, and she had accepted without complaint.

"You look very comfortable with that truffle, Granger," he had teased, a bit too self-assuredly in hindsight. "If you're not careful you might get used to it."

She'd just cocked her head to one side and gave him a sly look from underneath her eyelashes. "Don't worry, Malfoy, you can't corrupt me _that_ easily."

Well, he definitely learnt that the hard way.

They'd Floo'd back to her flat after the dinner, as they did about three out of seven nights now. He was standing behind her, his arms around her waist and his lips on the side of her neck as she attempted to change out of the little black dress she wore for the special occasion.

"No, don't take the dress off yet," he coaxed, redoing the zip at the back. "I want you to try something on first."

She huffed. "But the dress is so tight! And what do you want me to try on? Can't I try it on in my jammies?"

Draco chuckled at the image of Granger in her giraffe print pajamas with a million-Galleon necklace on. If anyone could pull that look off, it would be her.

Pivoting her around, he pushed her down gently to sit on the edge of the bed, and summoned the flat, velvet box he'd hidden in her bookshelf before they left for dinner.

He noted happily at the widening of her eyes. A bit smugly, in fact. Well, he _was_ rather outstanding at picking presents for his love interests.

He opened the box with a flourish, and waited for the gushing and the_ ooh_-ing and the _ahh_-ing...

... which never came.

In fact, it didn't register in his head that Granger was yelling at him until a few long moments later.

"Are you _insane_, Malfoy?" she shrieked. "What makes you think I want _jewellery_?"

He blinked. "But - you're a _woman_."

Draco should've had that long feminist rant coming, though he was not certain he deserved it.

His eyes glazed over as Granger went off on a tangent, flinging her hands about as if she were public speaking, pacing back and forth the length of the silly, fuzzy carpet framing her bed.

So there you have it. You're dead wrong if you thought buying Hermione Granger a birthday present would be a piece of cake. Even if you did agonise over it, she'd throw it right back at your face and yell at you. Or threaten to take it back to the store for a refund so she could donate the money to the village women who made organic cloth in Indonesia.

After approximately ten minutes of rapid verbal fire, Granger abruptly planted her bottom on the bed, looking a bit pink and out of breath. She glared at the necklace, which sat proudly in the still open box in Draco's hands.

He cleared his throat, and then slowly closed the velvet lid. "So, you don't like it."

He didn't exactly mean for it to come out in such a hurt puppy kind of way, but goddamnit, it did.

Granger sighed heavily. "No, I'm sorry. I can't take it."

Straightening his back awkwardly, he reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "Well, that's okay. Here's the receipt for the refund. If you really don't want it."

Chewing on her bottom lip and with her brow creased, she said gently. "Draco, it was really... sweet, but it's not _me_."

He nodded, and handed her the envelope. "No, Granger, it's fine. In fact, why don't you check what time the store opens tomorrow morning, I could go get the refund with you before work."

There was a quiet ruffle of paper as she opened the envelope.

Frowning, she asked, "What is this?"

"What?" replied Draco benignly, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Certificate of loan?" read Granger out loud. Her hazel eyes darted up to meet his in confusion.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, if you were paying attention, you'd have realised that I said _try it on_, I never said you could keep it."

A small smile unfurled itself on her face, and she said slowly, "You devious, little prat."

He grinned. "The element of surprise has always been a forte of mine. And there's something else in the envelope."

She studied the other piece of parchment, and a laugh escaped her. "A cheque for F.A.B.R.I.C.?"

"You do remember that, right?" asked Draco with a lopsided smile. "I believe I came up with it - the Federation Against Berserk Ruining of Indonesian Cloth. Right before you assaulted me with a roll of said fabric."

Granger grinned at the memory. "That's not a real thing."

Stepping towards the bed, Draco reached out for her hand and pressed his lips against the back of her fingers affectionately. "Well, being as smart as you are, I'm sure you can make up another acronym for whatever your next charitable cause is."

"Like Friends And Backers for the Rights of Indonesian Clothmakers?" she shot back smartly, pulling his face towards her by his tie.

He chuckled. "Exactly what I had in mind. Happy birthday, Hermione."

She kissed him warmly, fingers tangling in his hair before pulling back. "Thank you, Draco."

Reaching for her zipper, he slowly slid it down her back and murmured by her ear. "Now, if you could put on your sexy giraffe jammies, I'd like to give you the _other_ half of your present."

* * *

II.

Hermione stormed through the grand lobby of Malfoy International Corporation. She felt all eyes on her, probably because she was physically buzzing from the five coffees she'd already consumed that day. Or that she literally had steam coming out of her ears.

She marched straight into the lift that would take her to Malfoy's office, then past Lindsay's desk, and flung open the unnecessarily heavy oak doors.

Standing at the threshold, with Malfoy staring coolly back at her, Hermione realised how this felt exactly like the early days of working for him. Well, she thankfully wasn't his employee any more.

"How many times do I need to tell you, Malfoy?"

Primly capping his stupid, expensive fountain pen, he blinked innocently. "Tell me what exactly, Granger?"

Suddenly aware of the fact that Lindsay probably did not want to be caught in the inevitable crossfire of words, Hermione closed the doors with a flick of her wand.

"I do _not_ need your help," she said through gritted teeth once the doors thudded close.

Malfoy's eyebrows went up in mock incredulity. "I beg your pardon, are you accusing _me_ of being helpful?"

"Don't play the dumb blond with me, mister," she snapped, holding up a letter from the Events Manager at the London Dorchester Hotel. "I know you've been poking your sharp, little nose in my show!"

He sniffed. "Dumb blond, how original. And I like to think of my nose as aesthetically proportionate, and certainly not 'sharp' or 'little'."

She nearly gave into the temptation of stamping her foot in frustration. "I'm serious, Malfoy! I don't need you to help me find a place for my fashion show!"

Malfoy finally frowned. "Connections are there to be used, Granger, what's the big deal if I pulled some strings for you?"

She felt her nostrils flare. "Do you know what they call me in the papers?"

"Most probably by your name," answered Malfoy sarcastically.

"They still call me 'the designer of _that _Malfoy fashion line'."

He nodded slowly as that sank in. "Right. Well, that sounds correct enough to me."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Don't you _get it_, Malfoy? I don't want to be _that_ designer for your line because I'm not anymore. I'm _my own_ designer. Nothing is going to change if you insist on running _my_ business!"

"I don't insist on running your business - I resent that!" he protested, standing up and squaring his shoulders as if in self-defence.

"Then stop trying to find a venue for my show, I can handle it!" she shot back, crossing her arms.

He snorted. "Alright, in that case, excuse me for trying to help you. I thought that's what you're supposed to do when you love someone!"

She must have looked somewhat stunned, because Malfoy went on to roll his eyes none too nicely. "Don't look so bloody pleased, you daft cow. If I didn't love you I'd have upped and gone months ago!"

Putting her hands on her hips, she failed desperately at keeping a fast-blooming smile at bay. "Don't call me a daft cow, you ferr-!"

She nearly jumped a foot in the air when, without preamble, the office doors were all but blown off their hinges.

"WE ARE PREGNANT!" bellowed Blaise as he ripped into the office and scooped Hermione clean off her feet. "PANSY IS PREGNANT! WE ARE HAVING A BABY!"

Meanwhile, Malfoy had leapt out of his chair and all but pushed Hermione out of the way to hug his best friend. "Holy shit. Holy shit! Now you've done it, Zabini!"

She laughed along with them, her head buzzing with a little too much information at the moment. Malfoy's cheeks were flushed and his grin so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkled most endearingly. Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms, with her back to his front while Blaise literally bounced around the office in utter ecstasy.

"I'm going to be a godfather," Malfoy murmured to himself.

She twisted around to kiss his cheek. "Yes, and you will be the absolutely baddest godfather."

He considered that, then grinned. "I could live with that."

Blaise barreled over to them and declared, "We have to go! We have to go home and celebrate!"

"It's quarter-past three in the afternoon on a work day, Zabini."

"I don't give a shit, Malfoy! Off we go now, let's go, come on, hurry! Lindsay, you have the rest of the day off!"

In the midst of being shepherded into the elevator by the father-to-be, Hermione found the time to slip her hand into Malfoy's, and to stand on her tippy toes to whisper, at long last, "I love you, too" in his ear.

* * *

III.

_Witches' Wear Daily_

_10th November, 2004_

**Critics' Review: Hermione Granger RTW Debut**

Effortless. It was the first word that sprang to mind when watching Hermione Granger debut her environmentally-friendly Ready-to-Wear line at the charming Square des Batignolles in Paris yesterday. Free of animal products, Granger cleverly infuses Muggle and magical elements to create innovative fabrics that give the clothes a unique, effortlessly cool twist...

* * *

Draco was eating a sandwich at his desk (not _any_ ordinary sandwich, obviously, but a gourmet bap with lobster and rocket leaves tossed in truffle-infused oil), flipping through his daily reads when something caught his eyes.

He smiled with pride.

* * *

_Time_

_13th December, 2004_

**British Fashion Awards 2004**

One designer to watch is the winner of the Emerging Talent Award, Hermione Granger. A first-class graduate from Central St. Martins, Granger infuses good intentions with extraordinary taste to create her 100% natural line of classic-cut dresses, cigarette trousers and accessories...

* * *

She was so absorbed in her sketch that she didn't notice him sneak up behind her.

The magazine landed on her work desk with a loud slap, startling her into squealing indignantly.

"Malfoy! Don't do that!" she chided as she gripped the sides of her stool tightly.

Turning to leave, he smiled enigmatically and nodded towards the open pages on her desk. "Congratulations, Miss Granger."

* * *

IV.

"Maybe it's time we got together, Weasley."

Ron rubbed his eyes and braced himself for the worst. "And why is that, Nott?"

Knocking back a big mouthful of his pre-dinner sherry, Theo said, "I don't know about you, but I'm fucking sick of being the seventh wheel in this boring group of babymakers."

"Language, Theo!" said Pansy sharply as set the table for eight. "As if Draco isn't a bad enough influence on Genevieve. Oh, the glasses are on the top shelf, Ginny dear."

Draco scoffed. "Pardon me, Parkinson? I am a brilliant ray of light in your daughter's otherwise incredibly dull life. She loves me more than she loves Blaise."

As if proving his point, the Zabini baby wriggled vigorously in her father's arms, her fat little fingers pointing at Draco who was sitting across the room as she squealed.

"So hurt," deadpanned Blaise. Tickling his daughter's sides until she laughed, he cooed, "Who's a heartbreaker, my little darling, hmmm?"

Friday night dinners at the Zabini's had expanded quite exponentially in scale. Theo moved back to England for good shortly before Genevieve Louise Zabini was born, and he lived right around the corner from the Zabini's in Notting Hill. As insensitive as he liked to pretend to be, he was always there to babysit whenever the newly minted parents needed a break.

Ron and Theo had struck up an unlikely friendship when, by chance, the latter had taken a date to Chez Weasley. Being the romantic that he was, Head Chef Weasley had sent an endless parade of amuse bouches, champagne and strawberries to the table, which went down very well as expected. Needless to say, Theo had taken all his subsequent dates to Ron's establishment, and Theo in turn had taken Ron to the Zabini's Friday night dinners ever since.

Mrs Harry Potter, who was now six months along, had met Mrs Blaise Zabini at a yoga class for expectant mothers in Muggle London on late Friday afternoons. It was only natural that they had dinner together as well afterwards with their husbands.

"Can someone get Harry? He's been down at the cellars for like fifteen minutes, he's probably lost," piped up Ginny as she laid out the wine glasses.

"Why don't you go, Malfoy, since you've done nothing but sit on your arse since you got here?" suggested Hermione. To be honest, she hadn't been doing much more than that either.

"I run a multi-million Galleon corporation, I am allowed to sit on my fine arse for as long as I please on a Friday evning," he replied haughtily. Then his hand sneakily slid down her thigh and squeezed. "Unless you come with me and we can finally cross the cellar off our bucket list."

Hermione flushed bright red as a chorus of mortified groans rang out and Blaise hastily covered Genevieve's ears. "You animals! A bucket list, really? Where else have you been in my house?!"

"What a lad!" chuckled Theo. "That's the Malfoy I know -"

Pansy shrieked. "Did I really need to know that? You're not allowed into the cellars _ever_, Draco!"

At the sudden burst of noise, Genevieve squawked happily, clapping her hands together.

With his hand in the air, Ron sprang up, yelling, "Seriously, shut up, everyone! Fucking hell, I'll go, _I'll go_!"

And at that inopportune moment, the Boy Who Lived rounded the corner into the living room, a bottle of red wine in each hand and eyes wide at the racket. "What the hell did I just miss?"

* * *

V.

_The Daily Prophet_

_4th March, 2006_

**Breaking News: Is Draco Malfoy Having an Affair?**

Hogwarts sweethearts Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger will be celebrating their two-year anniversary in a few short months - or will they?

An insider source has tipped us off that Mr Malfoy has been spotted visiting a nondescript address in an upmarket neighbourhood in Paris three nights in a row, and leaving at first light looking disheveled. Meanwhile, back in London, Miss Granger has been preparing for the upcoming fashion show for her successful eponymous label...

* * *

Draco made the Floo curfew in the nick of time. He stumbled inelegantly from the fireplace as the green flames all but spat him out, and he choked hard on the dust.

Granger's living room was quiet in the darkness, and everything was as it was. From the shoes lining the wall to the cushions on the sofa - it was tidy and uncluttered. Except for the newspaper sprawled over her work desk, which was not folded away in the newspaper rack. Wiping sweat from his hairline, he frowned and his spine stiffened when he saw the headlines.

Shit. She had meant for him to see it.

He thought he'd been discreet. Well, as discreet as he could've been - it wasn't easy to find conflict-free precious stones and metals mined in completely ethical ways.

Heart beating heavily, he folded the papers with shaking hands, despite his attempts to keep them steady. Toeing off his shoes, he took a deep breath and padded towards the bedroom.

He opened the door a couple of inches and peered into the darkness, which felt stifling. He tugged hard on his tie - it felt like it was hard to breathe.

Granger's back was to him, and she was on her side of the bed as usual, wearing an oversized t-shirt that actually belonged to him. He stood there, probably for a whole five minutes before she suddenly breathed out and shifted, making the mattress groan.

His feet felt like they were glued to the floor. Clenching his jaw, he resisted the urge to bang his head against the door frame. _Grow some balls, Malfoy._

He hated the damned floorboards in this building, did they have to be so fucking loud? Draco was sure that she was awake, there was no way she could have slept through this orchestra of wooden creaks.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he heaved a sigh. Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he said, voice slightly cracking. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way, Granger."

He watched her back stiffen, and he heard the hitch in her breathing.

"I didn't mean for you to find out," he pressed on, reaching inside his jacket. "I really didn't mean to hurt you. But it's been almost two years, and..."

He stopped when she suddenly pushed herself off the bed, eyes flashing, teeth bared, not unlike him when he was angry. She'd picked up a lot of him, he supposed. He saw the shine of tears in her eyes, before they alighted on the inconspicuous green velvet box in his hands.

Draco opened the box and with a luxurious, muted click of velvet, the lid popped into place at an angle of precisely 45 degrees.

The stone caught the street light outside the window brilliantly.

And right then, with Granger kneeling on the bed and her tshirt sliding off one bare shoulder, and Draco badly needing a shower after three days of slave-driving diamond cutters and gold wielders, he slowly got down on one knee.

"Granger, will you marry me?"

* * *

VI.

"Who do you think will fall in love tonight?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I told you, Granger, just because we did doesn't mean it happens at _every_ wedding."

She gave him a withering look. "Well, Theo and Ron did at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Not with each other, obviously."

"It didn't happen at Mrs Zabini's wedding," he pointed out in rebuttal.

"That's because she was trying to get with _you_!" she huffed.

"Still jealous, I see," he said with an quirk of his eyebrow.

"Look, look, Draco! Cormac is making eyes at Lindsay! We have to go give him a nudge - _Malfoy_!" she squealed as she hastily grabbed onto her white dress, which he sneakily loosened with wandless magic. "What do you think you're doing?"

Brushing his nose against hers, he took an appreciative ogle down the front of her dress. "Getting you to pay attention to _us_ instead of busying yourself with matchmaking duties."

"Fix the dress, Malfoy, I'm warning you!" she gasped as the dress slid even lower. "What in the name of Merlin?!"

He grinned insolently. "You didn't specify what you meant by 'fixing' it."

Shaking her head exasperatedly, but still smiling, she warned, "I'm going to kick your arse, Malfoy."

He chuckled, lacing his fingers in her left hand, and kissed the rose gold wedding band set with sapphires that sat on top of her diamond engagement ring. "Is that a promise, Mrs Malfoy?"

"Damn right it is. And I promise it will hurt, too."

"Alright, you have my permission to kick my arse if that makes you happy," he conceded with an exaggerated sigh. He then flashed her a brilliant grin and held her eyes with his. "But only after I take off my expensive trousers - I _am_ wearing Prada, after all."

* * *

A/N: It. Is. DONE.

I can't begin to tell you how happy to say that this story is finally complete, more than 6.5 years after I started it on a whim. I honestly thought I'd never finish it, but here we are! I also rewrote Chapter 5, which I accidentally erased a while ago.

I hope everyone is happy with the ending, it's nothing groundbreaking, but it is the happy ending I wanted for our favourite pairing. And apologies for the vaguely pointless and irrelevant name of this chapter, but how can I resist when this story ends on chapter 22?

Before I bid you adieu for the last time, I want to thank every single one of you who have read and reviewed the story. Never in my wildest dream did I think I would write a story that would be viewed more than 140,000+ times, be on 500+ favourites lists and have 800+ of you on alert. It makes me one happy writer!

And for my amazing reviewers, thank you for your encouragement, I love hearing from you! In particular, I want to thank these reviewers whose messages I always look forward to: websterdevil, ga-4-ever, SlytherinGurrl, vickifay, linux-Ginny, Margo Alaska, waterflower20, FairoozT, BookSweetHeart, Dobz, Ataum, BlueBerrySourStraps, TheShiningStar, Iromena, hoshiakari7 - this list is by no means exhaustable, but you lovely reviewers are always there for the story, and I feel so lucky to have such devoted readers :)

As I said in the previous chapters, I do have a couple more story ideas floating in the expanse of (mostly) emptiness which I call my brain. But as you can tell by the delay in me putting this last chapter up, I'm very busy at the moment looking for a job and freelancing, so it might be a while before I start a new story, if I do at all! When or if that happens, I'll be sure to give you guys a heads up.

So that's it, before this A/N runs longer than the chapter itself! It's been incredibly fun and incredibly difficult at the same time finishing this story, but I absolutely loved it. Hopefully see you all soon!

Wanderer x

P.S. I removed the A/N that used to be Chapter 14 so now the chapters are buggered - if you reviewed Chapter 21 last time (used to be 22), then you'll have to sign out and leave one as a guest for the last chapter! If you put down your username, I can still send you a reply through PM :)


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